805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

It is an honorable thought, And makes one lift one’s hat, As one encountered gentlefolk Upon a daily street, That we’ve immortal place,

343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless—

128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—

73 Who never lost, are unprepared A Coronet to find! Who never thirsted Flagons, and Cooling Tamarind!

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference.

262 The lonesome for they know not Wh… The Eastern Exiles—be— Who strayed beyond the Amber line Some madder Holiday—

Of Brussels—it was not— Of Kidderminster? Nay— The Winds did buy it of the Woods… They—sold it unto me It was a gentle price—

322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—

604 Unto my Books’—so good to turn’— Far ends of tired Days’— It half endears the Abstinence’— And Pain’—is missed’—in Praise’—

896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually