A House upon the Height— That Wagon never reached— No Dead, were ever carried down— No Peddler’s Cart—approached— Whose Chimney never smoked—

XLIX A POOR torn heart, a tattered he… That sat it down to rest, Nor noticed that the ebbing day Flowed silver to the west,

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

651 So much Summer Me for showing Illegitimate— Would a Smile’s minute bestowing

589 The Night was wide, and furnished… With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear—

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale

24 There is a morn by men unseen— Whose maids upon remoter green Keep their Seraphic May— And all day long, with dance and g…

166 I met a King this afternoon! He had not on a Crown indeed, A little Palmleaf Hat was all, And he was barefoot, I’m afraid!

867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—

955 The Hollows round His eager Eyes Were Pages where to read Pathetic Histories—although Himself had not complained.

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?