I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,

XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.

921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.

208 The Rose did caper on her cheek— Her Bodice rose and fell— Her pretty speech—like drunken men… Did stagger pitiful—

931 Noon—is the Hinge of Day— Evening—the Tissue Door— Morning—the East compelling the s… Till all the World is ajar—

558 But little Carmine hath her face— Of Emerald scant—her Gown— Her Beauty—is the love she doth— Itself—exhibit—Mine&md ash;

726 We thirst at first—’tis Nature’s… And later—when we die— A little Water supplicate— Of fingers going by—

990 Not all die early, dying young— Maturity of Fate Is consummated equally In Ages, or a Night—

In snow thou comest - Thou shalt go with the resuming gr… The sweet derision of the crow, And Glee’s advancing sound. In fear thou comest -

186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—

339 I tend my flowers for thee— Bright Absentee! My Fuchsia’s Coral Seams Rip—while the Sower—dreams—

527 To put this World down, like a Bu… And walk steady, away, Requires Energy—possibly Agony— ’Tis the Scarlet way