101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?

778 This that would greet—an hour ago— Is quaintest Distance—now— Had it a Guest from Paradise— Nor glow, would it, nor bow—

921 If it had no pencil Would it try mine— Worn—now—and dull—sweet, Writing much to thee.

841 A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale.

390 It’s coming—the postponeless Crea… It gains the Block—and now—it gai… Chooses its latch, from all the ot… Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”?

564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

256 If I’m lost—now That I was found— Shall still my transport be— That once—on me—those Jasper Gate…

348 I dreaded that first Robin, so, But He is mastered, now, I’m accustomed to Him grown, He hurts a little, though—

958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—

832 Soto! Explore thyself! Therein thyself shalt find The “Undiscovered Continent”— No Settler had the Mind.

281 ’Tis so appalling—it exhilarates— So over Horror, it half Captivate… The Soul stares after it, secure— A Sepulchre, fears frost, no more…

428 Taking up the fair Ideal, Just to cast her down When a fracture—we discover— Or a splintered Crown—