895 A Cloud withdrew from the Sky Superior Glory be But that Cloud and its Auxiliarie… Are forever lost to me

XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.

957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue

It was not death, for I stood up, And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bell… Put out their tongues, for noon. It was not frost, for on my flesh

375 The Angle of a Landscape— That every time I wake— Between my Curtain and the Wall Upon an ample Crack—

234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—