617 Don’t put up my Thread and Needle… I’ll begin to Sew When the Birds begin to whistle— Better Stitches—so—

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

Delight becomes pictorial When viewed through pain,— More fair, because impossible That any gain. The mountaln at a given distance

707 The Grace—Myself—might not obtain… Confer upon My flower— Refracted but a Countenance— For I—inhabit Her—

XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.

XXXIV WHO never lost, are unprepared A coronet to find; Who never thirsted, flagons And cooling tamarind.

265 Where Ships of Purple—gently toss… On Seas of Daffodil— Fantastic Sailors—mingle— And then—the Wharf is still!

753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…

The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.

402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

To see her is a Picture— To hear her is a Tune— To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June— To know her not—Affliction—

Like trains of cars on tracks of p… I hear the level bee: A jar across the flowers goes, Their velvet masonry Withstands until the sweet assault