Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.

718 I meant to find Her when I came— Death—had the same design— But the Success—was His—it seems— And the Surrender—Mine—

444 It feels a shame to be Alive— When Men so brave—are dead— One envies the Distinguished Dust… Permitted—such a Head—

176 I’m the little “Heart’s Ease”! I don’t care for pouting skies! If the Butterfly delay Can I, therefore, stay away?

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

300 ‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the… Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’— Dice’—to the Maid’— Morning means just Risk’—to the L…

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

659 That first Day, when you praised… And said that I was strong— And could be mighty, if I liked— That Day—the Days among—

147 Bless God, he went as soldiers, His musket on his breast— Grant God, he charge the bravest Of all the martial blest!

555 Trust in the Unexpected— By this—was William Kidd Persuaded of the Buried Gold— As One had testified—

Judgment is justest When the Judged, His action laid away, Divested is of every Disk But his sincerity.

191 The Skies can’t keep their secret… They tell it to the Hills— The Hills just tell the Orchards— And they—the Daffodils!