God permit industrious angels Afternoons to play. I met one,—forgot my school-mates, All, for him, straightaway. God calls home the angels promptly

266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect

I never saw a moor; I never saw the sea, Yet know I how the heather looks And what a billow be. I never spoke with God,

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

1510 How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears—

’T IS so much joy! ’T is so much… If I should fail, what poverty! And yet, as poor as I Have ventured all upon a throw; Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so

595 Like Mighty Foot Lights—burned t… At Bases of the Trees— The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting—to These—

76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—

385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—

580 I gave myself to Him— And took Himself, for Pay, The solemn contract of a Life Was ratified, this way—