XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step

388 Take your Heaven further on— This—to Heaven divine Has gone— Had You earlier blundered in Possibly, e’en You had seen

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—

994 Partake as doth the Bee, Abstemiously. The Rose is an Estate— In Sicily.

A drop fell on the apple tree Another on the roof; A half a dozen kissed the eaves, And made the gables laugh. A few went out to help the brook,

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

606 The Trees like Tassels—hit—and sw… There seemed to rise a Tune From Miniature Creatures Accompanying the Sun—

622 To know just how He suffered—woul… To know if any Human eyes were ne… To whom He could entrust His wave… Until it settle broad—on Paradise…

220 Could I—then—shut the door— Lest my beseeching face—at last— Rejected—be—of Her?

592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning

732 She rose to His Requirement—dropt The Playthings of Her Life To take the honorable Work Of Woman, and of Wife—