Apparently with no surprise, To any happy flower, The frost beheads it at its play, In accidental power. The blond assassin passes on.

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

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

Said Death to Passion ‘Give of thine an Acre unto me.’ Said Passion, through contracting… ‘A Thousand Times Thee Nay.’ Bore Death from Passion

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

236 If He dissolve – then – there is… Eclipse – at Midnight – It was dark – before – Sunset – at Easter –

146 On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair—

234 You’re right—“the way is narrow”— And “difficult the Gate”— And “few there be”—Correct again— That “enter in—thereat”—

343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—

391 A Visitor in Marl— Who influences Flowers— Till they are orderly as Busts— And Elegant—as Glass—

163 Tho’ my destiny be Fustian— Hers be damask fine— Tho’ she wear a silver apron— I, a less divine—

46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.