184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!

Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -

I have no life but this, To lead it here; Nor any death, but lest Dispelled from there; Nor tie to earths to come,

414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a no… That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony

467 We do not play on Graves— Because there isn’t Room— Besides—it isn’t even—it slants And People come—

671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—

801 I play at Riches—to appease The Clamoring for Gold— It kept me from a Thief, I think, For often, overbold

842 Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! Better, to be found, If one care to, that is, The Fox fits the Hound—

46 I keep my pledge. I was not called— Death did not notice me. I bring my Rose.

827 The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see—