239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!

455 Triumph—may be of several kinds— There’s Triumph in the Room When that Old Imperator—Death— By Faith

131 Besides the Autumn poets sing A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the Haze—

41 I robbed the Woods— The trusting Woods. The unsuspecting Trees Brought out their Burs and mosses

642 Me from Myself — to banish — Had I Art — Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart —

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—

824 [first version] The Wind begun to knead the Grass… As Women do a Dough— He flung a Hand full at the Plain…

665 Dropped into the Ether Acre— Wearing the Sod Gown— Bonnet of Everlasting Laces— Brooch—frozen on—

453 Love — thou art high — I cannot climb thee — But, were it Two — Who knows but we —

The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.

Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.