557 She hideth Her the last— And is the first, to rise— Her Night doth hardly recompense The Closing of Her eyes—

302 Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done— Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June

521 Endow the Living—with the Tears— You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women—now, Around Your Fireside—

612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity

118 My friend attacks my friend! Oh Battle picturesque! Then I turn Soldier too, And he turns Satirist!

383 Exhiliration—is within— There can no Outer Wine So royally intoxicate As that diviner Brand

52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—

Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling

531 We dream—it is good we are dreamin… It would hurt us—were we awake— But since it is playing—kill us, And we are playing—shriek—