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,

292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

471 A Night—there lay the Days betwee… The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind—were one— And now—'twas Night—was here—

213 Did the Harebell loose her girdle To the lover Bee Would the Bee the Harebell hallow Much as formerly?

323 As if I asked a common Alms, And in my wondering hand A Stranger pressed a Kingdom, And I, bewildered, stand—

416 A Murmur in the Trees—to note— Not loud enough—for Wind— A Star—not far enough to seek— Nor near enough—to find—

792 Through the strait pass of sufferi… The Martyrs—even—trod. Their feet—upon Temptations— Their faces—upon God—

635 I think the longest Hour of all Is when the Cars have come— And we are waiting for the Coach— It seems as though the Time

886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.

628 They called me to the Window, for “ ’Twas Sunset”—Some one said— I only saw a Sapphire Farm— And just a Single Herd—

1000 The Fingers of the Light Tapped soft upon the Town With “I am great and cannot wait So therefore let me in.”

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

124 In lands I never saw’—they say Immortal Alps look down’— Whose Bonnets touch the firmament… Whose Sandals touch the town’—