720 No Prisoner be— Where Liberty— Himself—abide with Thee—

944 I learned—at least—what Home coul… How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant— How awkward at the Hymn

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—

926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—

564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,

889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep

626 Only God—detect the Sorrow— Only God— The Jehovahs—are no Babblers— Unto God—

The Devil—had he fidelity Would be the best friend— Because he has ability— But Devils cannot mend— Perfidy is the virtue