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

The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pa…

Not with a club, the Heart is bro… Nor with a stone; A whip, so small you could not see… I’ve known To lash the magic creature

773 Deprived of other Banquet, I entertained Myself— At first—a scant nutrition— An insufficient Loaf—

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—

714 Rest at Night The Sun from shining, Nature—and some Men— Rest at Noon—some Men—

997 Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.

141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.

266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

After great pain, a formal feeling… The Nerves sit ceremonious, like… The stiff Heart questions was it… And Yesterday, or Centuries befor… The Feet, mechanical, go round—

926 Patience—has a quiet Outer— Patience—Look within— Is an Insect’s futile forces Infinites—between—