446 I showed her Heights she never sa… “Would’st Climb,” I said? She said—"Not so"— “With me—” I said—With me?

497 He strained my faith— Did he find it supple? Shook my strong trust— Did it then—yield?

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

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—

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

836 Truth—is as old as God— His Twin identity And will endure as long as He A Co-Eternity—

6 Frequently the wood are pink— Frequently are brown. Frequently the hills undress Behind my native town.

I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen

364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—