204 A slash of Blue— A sweep of Gray— Some scarlet patches on the way, Compose an Evening Sky—

They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

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

66 So from the mould Scarlet and Gold Many a Bulb will rise— Hidden away, cunningly, From saga…

982 No Other can reduce Our mortal Consequence Like the remembering it be nought A Period from hence

949 Under the Light, yet under, Under the Grass and the Dirt, Under the Beetle’s Cellar Under the Clover’s Root,

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

A bird came down the walk: He did not know I saw; He bit an angle-worm in halves And ate the fellow, raw. And then he drank a dew

469 The Red—Blaze—is the Morning— The Violet—is Noon— The Yellow—Day—is falling— And after that—is none—

797 By my Window have I for Scenery Just a Sea—with a Stem— If the Bird and the Farmer—deem i… The Opinion will serve—for them—

I felt a cleaving in my mind As if my brain had split; I tried to match it, seam by seam, But could not make them fit. The thought behind I strove to jo…