113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—

XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

934 That is solemn we have ended Be it but a Play Or a Glee among the Garret Or a Holiday

472 Except the Heaven had come so nea… So seemed to choose My Door— The Distance would not haunt me s… I had not hoped—before—

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

569 I reckon—when I count at all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—

412 I read my sentence—steadily— Reviewed it with my eyes, To see that I made no mistake In its extremest clause—

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

269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—

48 Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the dee… Her troubled question flings—