Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—

883 The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light

382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—

100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold

The Beggar at the Door for Fame Were easily supplied But Bread is that Diviner thing Disclosed to be denied

A thought went up my mind to-day That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year, Nor where it went, nor why it came

Whose Pink career may have a clos… Portentous as our own, who knows? To imitate these Neighbors fleet In awe and innocence, were meet.

372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—

119 Talk with prudence to a Beggar Of “Potose,” and the mines! Reverently, to the Hungry Of your viands, and your wines!

626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—