90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—

I taste a liquor never brewed, From tankards scooped in pearl; Not all the vats upon the Rhine Yield such an alcohol! Inebriate of air am I,

985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—

904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—

277 What if I say I shall not wait! What if I burst the fleshly Gate— And pass escaped—to thee! What if I file this Mortal—off—

856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

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

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?

657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—

242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—