614 In falling Timbers buried— There breathed a Man— Outside—the spades—were plying— The Lungs—within—

393 Did Our Best Moment last— ‘Twould supersede the Heaven— A few—and they by Risk—procure— So this Sort—are not given—

645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

Why – do they shut Me out of Heav… Did I sing – too loud? But – I can say a little “minor” Timid as a Bird! Wouldn’t the Angels try me –

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

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

257 Delight is as the flight— Or in the Ratio of it, As the Schools would say— The Rainbow’s way—

256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…

717 The Beggar Lad—dies early— It’s Somewhat in the Cold— And Somewhat in the Trudging feet… And haply, in the World—

A great Hope fell You heard no noise The Ruin was within Oh cunning wreck that told no tale And let no Witness in