835 Nature and God—I neither knew Yet Both so well knew me They startled, like Executors Of My identity.

265 Where Ships of Purple—gently toss… On Seas of Daffodil— Fantastic Sailors—mingle— And then—the Wharf is still!

689 The Zeroes—taught us—Phosphorous— We learned to like the Fire By playing Glaciers—when a Boy— And Tinder—guessed—by power

675 Essential Oilsare wrung The Attar from the Rose Be not expressed by Sunsalone It is the gift of Screws

992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—

99 New feet within my garden go— New fingers stir the sod— A Troubadour upon the Elm Betrays the solitude.

811 The Veins of other Flowers The Scarlet Flowers are Till Nature leisure has for Terms As “Branch,” and “Jugular.”

Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—

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

111 The Bee is not afraid of me. I know the Butterfly. The pretty people in the Woods Receive me cordially—

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”