275 Doubt Me! My Dim Companion! Why, God, would be content With but a fraction of the Life— Poured thee, without a stint—

179 If I could bribe them by a Rose I’d bring them every flower that g… From Amherst to Cashmere! I would not stop for night, or sto…

470 I am alive—I guess— The Branches on my Hand Are full of Morning Glory— And at my finger’s end—

LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!

Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.

100 A science—so the Savants say, “Comparative Anatomy”— By which a single bone— Is made a secret to unfold

556 The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly—and true— But let a Splinter swerve— ’Twere easier for You—

I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,

71 A throe upon the features— A hurry in the breath— An ecstasy of parting Denominated “Death”—