312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,

493 The World—stands—solemner—to me— Since I was wed—to Him— A modesty befits the soul That bears another’s—name—

854 Banish Air from Air— Divide Light if you dare— They’ll meet While Cubes in a Drop

403 The Winters are so short— I’m hardly justified In sending all the Birds away— And moving into Pod—

Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather

657 I dwell in Possibility— A fairer House than Prose— More numerous of Windows— Superior—for Doors—

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

382 For Death—or rather For the Things 'twould buy— This—put away Life’s Opportunity—

237 I think just how my shape will ris… When I shall be “forgiven”— Till Hair—and Eyes—and timid Hea… Are out of sight—in Heaven—

962 Midsummer, was it, when They died… A full, and perfect time— The Summer closed upon itself In Consummated Bloom—

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