171 Wait till the Majesty of Death Invests so mean a brow! Almost a powdered Footman Might dare to touch it now!

866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

Out of sight? What of that? See the Bird —reach it! Curve by Curve —Sweep by Sweep — Round the Steep Air — Danger! What is that to Her?

549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—

‘Heavenly Father’ - take to thee The supreme iniquity Fashioned by thy candid Hand In a moment contraband - Though to trust us - seems to us

500 Within my Garden, rides a Bird Upon a single Wheel— Whose spokes a dizzy Music make As ’twere a travelling Mill—

448 This was a Poet—It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings— And Attar so immense

312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,

If you were coming in the fall, I’d brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year,