780 The Truth—is stirless— Other force—may be presumed to mov… This—then—is best for confidence— When oldest Cedars swerve—

52 Whether my bark went down at sea— Whether she met with gales— Whether to isles enchanted She bent her docile sails—

854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop

144 She bore it till the simple veins Traced azure on her hand— Til pleading, round her quiet eyes The purple Crayons stand.

My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks

779 The Service without Hope— Is tenderest, I think— Because ’tis unsustained By stint—Rewarded Work—

A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew

509 If anybody’s friend be dead It’s sharpest of the theme The thinking how they walked alive… At such and such a time—

342 It will be Summer—eventually. Ladies—with parasols— Sauntering Gentlemen—with Canes— And little Girls—with Dolls—

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