994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.

220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?

The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.

847 Finite’—to fail, but infinite to… For the one ship that struts the s… Many’s the gallant’—overwhelmed C… Nodding in Navies nevermore’—

A Wind that rose Though not a Leaf In any Forest stirred But with itself did cold engage Beyond the Realm of Bird -

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

34 Garland for Queens, may be— Laurels—for rare degree Of soul or sword. Ah—but remembering me—

894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.

It sounded as if the Streets were… And then– the Streets stood stil… Eclipse - was all we could see at… And Awe - was all we could feel. By and by - the boldest stole out…

575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.