830 To this World she returned. But with a tinge of that— A Compound manner, As a Sod

XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf

471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—

684 Best Gains—must have the Losses’… To constitute them—Gains—

490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?

To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.

128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—