600 It troubled me as once I was— For I was once a Child— Concluding how an Atom—fell— And yet the Heavens—held—

983 Ideals are the Fairly Oil With which we help the Wheel But when the Vital Axle turns The Eye rejects the Oil.

The cricket sang, And set the sun, And workmen finished, one by one, Their seam the day upon. The low grass loaded with the dew,

110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!

929 How far is it to Heaven? As far as Death this way— Of River or of Ridge beyond Was no discovery.

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

433 Knows how to forget! But could It teach it? Easiest of Arts, they say When one learn how

551 There is a Shame of Nobleness— Confronting Sudden Pelf— A finer Shame of Ecstasy— Convicted of Itself—

Remorse– is Memory– awake - Her Parties all astir - A Presence of Departed Acts - At window– and at Door – Its Past - set down before the S…

559 It knew no Medicine— It was not Sickness—then— Nor any need of Surgery— And therefore—'twas not Pain—

774 It is a lonesome Glee— Yet sanctifies the Mind— With fair association— Afar upon the Wind

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

12 The morns are meeker than they wer… The nuts are getting brown— The berry’s cheek is plumper— The Rose is out of town.