363 I went to thank Her— But She Slept— Her Bed—a funneled Stone— With Nosegays at the Head and Fo…

She sweeps with many-colored broom… And leaves the shreds behind; Oh, housewife in the evening west, Come back, and dust the pond! You dropped a purple ravelling in,

894 Of Consciousness, her awful Mate The Soul cannot be rid— As easy the secreting her Behind the Eyes of God.

Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…

677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—

543 I fear a Man of frugal Speech— I fear a Silent Man— Haranguer—I can overtake— Or Babbler—entertain—

46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.

284 The Drop, that wrestles in the Se… Forgets her own locality— As I—toward Thee— She knows herself an incense small…

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

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