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

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

90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—

204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—

I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me. And frigates in the upper floor

817 Given in Marriage unto Thee Oh thou Celestial Host— Bride of the Father and the Son Bride of the Holy Ghost.

107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!

On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot - An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General thought - How red the Fire rocks below -

89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

122 A something in a summer’s Day As slow her flambeaux burn away Which solemnizes me. A something in a summer’s noon—

We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face

By homely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing - ‘Nothing’ is the force That renovates the World -