Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture

18 The Gentian weaves her fringes— The Maple’s loom is red— My departing blossoms Obviate parade.

924 Love—is that later Thing than Dea… More previous—than Life— Confirms it at its entrance—And Usurps it—of itself—

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

867 Escaping backward to perceive The Sea upon our place— Escaping forward, to confront His glittering Embrace—

530 You cannot put a Fire out— A Thing that can ignite Can go, itself, without a Fan— Upon the slowest Night—

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

115 What Inn is this Where for the night Peculiar Traveller comes? Who is the Landlord?

644 You left me—Sire—two Legacies— A Legacy of Love A Heavenly Father would suffice Had He the offer of—

989 Gratitude—is not the mention Of a Tenderness, But its still appreciation Out of Plumb of Speech.

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,

I watched the Moon around the Hou… Until upon a Pane— She stopped—a Traveller’s privile… And there upon I gazed—as at a stranger—

A lane of Yellow led the eye Unto a Purple Wood Whose soft inhabitants to be Surpasses solitude If Bird the silence contradict

958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—

971 Robbed by Death—but that was easy… To the failing Eye I could hold the latest Glowing— Robbed by Liberty