969 He who in Himself believes— Fraud cannot presume— Faith is Constancy’s Result— And assumes—from Home—

976 Death is a Dialogue between The Spirit and the Dust. “Dissolve” says Death—The Spirit… I have another Trust”—

805 This Bauble was preferred of Bees… By Butterflies admired At Heavenly—Hopeless Distances— Was justified of Bird—

GLEE! the great storm is over! Four have recovered the land; Forty gone down together Into the boiling sand. Ring, for the scant salvation!

733 The Spirit is the Conscious Ear. We actually Hear When We inspect—that’s audible— That is admitted—Here—

308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—

852 Apology for Her Be rendered by the Bee— Herself, without a Parliament Apology for Me.

To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise

516 Beauty—be not caused—It Is— Chase it, and it ceases— Chase it not, and it abides— Overtake the Creases

397 When Diamonds are a Legend, And Diadems—a Tale— I Brooch and Earrings for Myself… Do sow, and Raise for sale—

525 I think the Hemlock likes to stan… Upon a Marge of Snow— It suits his own Austerity— And satisfies an awe

566 A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink— I hunted all the Sand— I caught the Dripping of a Rock And bore it in my Hand—