250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—

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

157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—

889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep

275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—

926 Patience’—has a quiet Outer’— Patience’—Look within’— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites’—between’—

457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—

1763 Fame is a bee. It has a song— It has a sting— Ah, too, it has a wing.

949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,

439 Undue Significance a starving man… To Food— Far off—He sighs—and therefore—Ho… And therefore—Good—

843 I made slow Riches but my Gain Was steady as the Sun And every Night, it numbered more Than the preceding One

415 Sunset at Night—is natural— But Sunset on the Dawn Reverses Nature—Master— So Midnight's—due—at Noon.

141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.