312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,

904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”

To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—

753 My Soul—accused me—And I quailed… As Tongue of Diamond had reviled All else accused me—and I smiled— My Soul—that Morning—was My frie…

265 Where Ships of Purple—gently toss… On Seas of Daffodil— Fantastic Sailors—mingle— And then—the Wharf is still!

XXIV A NARROW fellow in the grass Occasionally rides; You may have met him,—did you not? His notice sudden is.

877 Each Scar I’ll keep for Him Instead I’ll say of Gem In His long Absence worn A Costlier one

655 Without this—there is nought— All other Riches be As is the Twitter of a Bird— Heard opposite the Sea—

833 Perhaps you think me stooping I’m not ashamed of that Christ—stooped until He touched t… Do those at Sacrament

I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…