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

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass

After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—

Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.

428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—

185 “Faith” is a fine invention When Gentlemen can see— But Microscopes are prudent In an Emergency.

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

926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—

529 I’m sorry for the Dead—Today— It’s such congenial times Old Neighbors have at fences— It’s time o’ year for Hay.

1068 Further in Summer than the Birds Pathetic from the Grass A minor Nation celebrates Its unobtrusive Mass.

The nearest dream recedes, unreali… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school-boy Invites the race;

78 A poor—torn heart—a tattered heart… That sat it down to rest— Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day Flowed silver to the West—