910
Experience is the Angled Road
Preferred against the Mind
By—Paradox—the Mind itself—
Presuming it to lead

383
Exhilaration’—is within’—
There can no Outer Wine
So royally intoxicate
As that diviner Brand

415
Sunset at Night’—is natural’—
But Sunset on the Dawn
Reverses Nature’—Master’—
So Midnight’s’—due’—at Noon.

Dying at my music!
Bubble! Bubble!
Hold me till the Octave’s run!
Quick! Burst the Windows!
Ritardando!

“Nature” is what we see’—
The Hill’—the Afternoon’—
Squirrel’—Eclipse’—the Bumble bee
Nay’—Nature is Heaven’—
Nature is what we hear’—

For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ectasty.
For each beloved hour

How lonesome the Wind must feel N
When people have put out the Ligh
And everything that has an Inn
Closes the shutter and goes in -
How pompous the Wind must feel No

824
[first version]
The Wind begun to knead the Grass
As Women do a Dough—
He flung a Hand full at the Plain

THE heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then, those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then, to go to sleep;

11
I never told the buried gold
Upon the hill—that lies—
I saw the sun—his plunder done
Crouch low to guard his prize.