123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.

994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.

The Butterfly in honored Dust Assuredly will lie But none will pass the Catacomb So chastened as the Fly -

837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.

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

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,

820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent—

417 Is it dead—Find it— Out of sound—Out of sight— “Happy”? Which is wiser— You, or the Wind?

932 My best Acquaintances are those With Whom I spoke no Word— The Stars that stated come to Tow… Esteemed Me never rude

Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket

846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—

A Sloop of Amber slips away Upon an Ether Sea, And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar… The Son of Ecstasy -