The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue

852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.

XLV DELIGHT becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain.

631 Ourselves were wed one summer—dear… Your Vision—was in June— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied—too—of mine—

641 Size circumscribes—it has no room For petty furniture— The Giant tolerates no Gnat For Ease of Gianture—

Lives he in any other world My faith cannot reply Before it was imperative ’Twas all distinct to me -

496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—

57 To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I,

540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—

122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—