13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand

547 I’ve seen a Dying Eye Run round and round a Room— In search of Something—as it seem… Then Cloudier become—

207 Tho’ I get home how late—how late… So I get home—’twill compensate— Better will be the Ecstasy That they have done expecting me—

981 As Sleigh Bells seem in summer Or Bees, at Christmas show— So fairy—so fictitious The individuals do

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,

I counted till they danced so Their slippers leaped the town, And then I took a pencil To note the rebels down. And then they grew so jolly

849 The good Will of a Flower The Man who would possess Must first present Certificate

It stole along so stealthy Suspicion it was done Was dim as to the wealthy Beginning not to own -

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—

767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine

681 Soil of Flint, if steady tilled— Will refund by Hand— Seed of Palm, by Libyan Sun Fructified in Sand—

Years I had been from home, And now, before the door I dared not open, lest a face I never saw before Stare vacant into mine