A little bread—a crust—a crumb— A little trust—a demijohn— Can keep the soul alive— Not portly, mind! but breathing—wa… Conscious—as old Napoleon,

XLVI A THOUGHT went up my mind to—d… That I have had before, But did not finish,—some way back, I could not fix the year,

696 Their Height in Heaven comforts n… Their Glory—nought to me— ’Twas best imperfect—as it was— I’m finite—I can’t see—

850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I

480 “Why do I love” You, Sir? Because— The Wind does not require the Gra… To answer—Wherefore when He pass

Shall I take thee, the Poet said To the propounded word? Be stationed with the Candidates Till I have finer tried— The Poet searched Philology

These Fevered Days—to take them t… Where Waters cool around the moss… And shade is all that devastates t… Seems it sometimes this would be a…

THE Brain—is wider than the sky— For—put them side by side— The one the other will include With ease—and you—beside— The Brain is deeper than the sea—