803 Who Court obtain within Himself Sees every Man a King— And Poverty of Monarchy Is an interior thing—

31 Summer for thee, grant I may be When Summer days are flown! Thy music still, when Whipporwill And Oriole—are done!

534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday—

GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!

969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—

422 More Life—went out—when He went Than Ordinary Breath— Lit with a finer Phosphor— Requiring in the Quench—

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

XXII I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity.

223 I Came to buy a smile—today— But just a single smile— The smallest one upon your face Will suit me just as well—

467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

786 Severer Service of myself I—hastened to demand To fill the awful Vacuum Your life had left behind—