276 Many a phrase has the English lan… I have heard but one— Low as the laughter of the Cricke… Loud, as the Thunder’s Tongue—

490 To One denied the drink To tell what Water is Would be acuter, would it not Than letting Him surmise?

523 Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered Every time—for Two— So that the Sum be never hindered Through Decay of You—

76 Exultation is the going Of an inland soul to sea, Past the houses—past the headlands… Into deep Eternity—

Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.

They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

423 The Months have ends’—the Years’—… No Power can untie To stretch a little further A Skein of Misery’—

386 Answer July— Where is the Bee— Where is the Blush— Where is the Hay?

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

113 Our share of night to bear— Our share of morning— Our blank in bliss to fill Our blank in scorning—

796 Who Giants know, with lesser Men Are incomplete, and shy— For Greatness, that is ill at eas… In minor Company—

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

980 Purple—is fashionable twice— This season of the year, And when a soul perceives itself To be an Emperor.

My River runs to thee’— Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply’— Oh Sea’—look graciously’— I’ll fetch thee Brooks