909
I make His Crescent fill or lack—
His Nature is at Full
Or Quarter—as I signify—
His Tides—do I control—

220
Could I’—then’—shut the door’—
Lest my beseeching face’—at last’—
Rejected’—be’—of Her?

968
Fitter to see Him, I may be
For the long Hindrance—Grace—to
With Summers, and with Winters, g
Some passing Year—A trait bestow

556
The Brain, within its Groove
Runs evenly—and true—
But let a Splinter swerve—
’Twere easier for You—

574
My first well Day’—since many ill
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands
And see the things in Pod’—

645
Bereavement in their death to feel
Whom We have never seen—
A Vital Kinsmanship import
Our Soul and theirs—between—

175
I have never seen “Volcanoes”—
But, when Travellers tell
How those old—phlegmatic mountains
Usually so still—

671
She dwelleth in the Ground—
Where Daffodils—abide—
Her Maker—Her Metropolis—
The Universe—Her Maid—

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,

Tie the strings to my life, my Lo
Then I am ready to go!
Just a look at the horses—
Rapid! That will do!
Put me in on the firmest side,