My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks

970 Color — Caste — Denomination — These — are Time's Affair — Death's diviner Classifying Does not know they are —

705 Suspense—is Hostiler than Death— Death—tho’soever Broad, Is just Death, and cannot increas… Suspense—does not conclude –

468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—

Much Madness is divinest Sense - To a discerning Eye - Much Sense– the starkest Madness… ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

908 ’Tis Sunrise—Little Maid—Hast T… No Station in the Day? ’Twas not thy wont, to hinder so— Retrieve thine industry—

410 The first Day’s Night had come— And grateful that a thing So terrible—had been endured— I told my Soul to sing—

160 Just lost, when I was saved! Just felt the world go by! Just girt me for the onset with E… When breath blew back,

XVI TO fight aloud is very brave, But gallanter, I know, Who charge within the bosom, The cavalry of woe.

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,— The sweeping up the heart,