266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

You said that I “was Great”'—one… Then “Great” it be’—if that pleas… Or Small’—or any size at all’— Nay’—I’m the size suit Thee’— Tall’—like the Stag’—would that?

392 Through the Dark Sod—as Educatio… The Lily passes sure— Feels her white foot—no trepidatio… Her faith—no fear—

147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!

560 It knew no lapse, nor Diminuation… But large—serene— Burned on—until through Dissoluti… It failed from Men—

76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—

976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—

921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.

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

The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.