18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.

355 ’Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face—

620 It makes no difference abroad— The Seasons—fit—the same— The Mornings blossom into Noons— And split their Pods of Flame—

947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?

‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us

XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf

863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—

727 Precious to Me—She still shall be… Though She forget the name I bear… The fashion of the Gown I wear— The very Color of My Hair—

208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—

963 A nearness to Tremendousness— An Agony procures— Affliction ranges Boundlessness— Vicinity to Laws

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.