Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket

How Human Nature dotes On what it can’t detect. The moment that a Plot is plumbed Prospective is extinct - Prospective is the friend

979 This Merit hath the worst— It cannot be again— When Fate hath taunted last And thrown Her furthest Stone—

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

867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—

Luck is not chance It’s Toil Fortune’s expensive smile Is earned The Father of the Mine

How fits his Umber Coat The Tailor of the Nut? Combined without a seam Like Raiment of a Dream - Who spun the Auburn Cloth?

519 ’Twas warm—at first—like Us— Until there crept upon A Chill—like frost upon a Glass— Till all the scene—be gone.

413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–

457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—