The soul selects her own society, Then shuts the door; On her divine majority Obtrude no more. Unmoved, she notes the chariot’s p…

896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually

I noticed People disappeared When but a little child - Supposed they visited remote Or settled Regions wild - But did because they died

I never hear the word 'escape’ Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad

My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper

903 I hide myself within my flower, That fading from your Vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me— Almost a loneliness.

789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty

128 Bring me the sunset in a cup, Reckon the morning’s flagons up And say how many Dew, Tell me how far the morning leaps—

476 I meant to have but modest needs— Such as Content—and Heaven— Within my income—these could lie And Life and I—keep even—

269 Bound—a trouble— And lives can bear it! Limit—how deep a bleeding go! So—many—drops—of vital scarlet—

For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour