517 He parts Himself—like Leaves— And then—He closes up— Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup—

749 All but Death, can be Adjusted— Dynasties repaired— Systems—settled in their Sockets— Citadels—dissolved—

400 A Tongue—to tell Him I am true! Its fee—to be of Gold— Had Nature—in Her monstrous Hous… A single Ragged Child—

556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—

693 Shells from the Coast mistaking— I cherished them for All— Happening in After Ages To entertain a Pearl—

411 The Color of the Grave is Green— The Outer Grave—I mean— You would not know it from the Fi… Except it own a Stone—

530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—

620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—

863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,

A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew

930 There is a June when Corn is cut And Roses in the Seed— A Summer briefer than the first But tenderer indeed