402 I pay—in Satin Cash— You did not state—your price— A Petal, for a Paragraph It near as I can guess—

The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,

856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

13 Sleep is supposed to be By souls of sanity The shutting of the eye. Sleep is the station grand

413 I never felt at Home–Below– And in the Handsome Skies I shall not feel at Home–I know– I don’t like Paradise–

925 Struck, was I, not yet by Lightni… Lightning—lets away Power to perceive His Process With Vitality.

186 What shall I do—it whimpers so— This little Hound within the Hear… All day and night with bark and st… And yet, it will not go—

83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

LXI A LITTLE road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly.

695 As if the Sea should part And show a further Sea— And that—a further—and the Three But a presumption be—

513 Like Flowers, that heard the news… But never deemed the dripping priz… Awaited their—low Brows— Or Bees—that thought the Summer’s…

Heart, we will forget him, You and I, tonight! You must forget the warmth he gave… I will forget the light. When you have done pray tell me,

Each life converges to some centre Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal, Admitted scarcely to itself, it ma…