104 Where I have lost, I softer tread… I sow sweet flower from garden bed… I pause above that vanished head And mourn.

226 Should you but fail at—Sea— In sight of me— Or doomed lie— Next Sun—to die—

XLIV THE show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be.

540 I took my Power in my Hand— And went against the World— ’Twas not so much as David—had— But I—was twice as bold—

The dying need but little, dear,— A glass of water’s all, A flower’s unobtrusive face To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend’s regret,

893 Drab Habitation of Whom? Tabernacle or Tomb— Or Dome of Worm— Or Porch of Gnome—

Death is like the insect Menacing the tree, Competent to kill it, But decoyed may be. Bait it with the balsam,

They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

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

38 By such and such an offering To Mr. So and So, The web of live woven— So martyrs albums show!

Part One: Life LIII GOD gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv…