964 “Unto Me?” I do not know you— Where may be your House? “I am Jesus—Late of Judea— Now—of Paradise”—

677 To be alive—is Power— Existence—in itself— Without a further function— Omnipotence—Enough—

330 The Juggler’s Hat her Country is… The Mountain Gorse—the Bee’s!

923 How the Waters closed above Him We shall never know— How He stretched His Anguish to… That—is covered too—

289 I know some lonely Houses off the… A Robber’d like the look of— Wooden barred, And Windows hanging low,

The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

56 If I should cease to bring a Rose Upon a festal day, ‘Twill be because beyond the Rose I have been called away—