402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—

Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,… Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman,

175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—

985 The Missing All’—prevented Me From missing minor Things. If nothing larger than a World’s Departure from a Hinge’—

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

There’s a certain Slant of light, Winter Afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us—

662 Embarrassment of one another And God Is Revelation’s limit, Aloud

806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when

395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity

553 One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History—