538 ’Tis true—They shut me in the Col… But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling ’tw… Forget it—Lord—of Them—

390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?

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

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

151 Mute thy Coronation— Meek my Vive le roi, Fold a tiny courtier In thine Ermine, Sir,

689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power

982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

198 An awful Tempest mashed the air— The clouds were gaunt, and few— A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak Hid Heaven and Earth from view.

Nature, the gentlest mother, Impatient of no child, The feeblest or the waywardest, Her admonition mild In forest and the hill