702 A first Mute Coming— In the Stranger’s House— A first fair Going— When the Bells rejoice—

866 Fame is the tine that Scholars le… Upon their Setting Names— The Iris not of Occident That disappears as comes—

This is the land the sunset washes… These are the banks of the Yellow… Where it rose, or whither it rushe… These are the western mystery! Night after night her purple traff…

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

993 We miss Her, not because We see— The Absence of an Eye— Except its Mind accompany Abridge Society

121 As Watchers hang upon the East, As Beggars revel at a feast By savory Fancy spread— As brooks in deserts babble sweet

385 Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury— On the Heads that started with us… Being’s Peasantry—

301 I reason, Earth is short— And Anguish—absolute— And many hurt, But, what of that?

457 Sweet—safe—Houses—Glad—gay—House… Sealed so stately tight— Lids of Steel—on Lids of Marble— Locking Bare feet out—

89 Some things that fly there be— Birds—Hours—the Bumblebee— Of these no Elegy. Some things that stay there be—

636 The Way I read a Letter’s—this— ’Tis first—I lock the Door— And push it with my fingers—next— For transport it be sure—

Those fair—fictitious People— The Women—plucked away From our familiar Lifetime— The Men of Ivory— Those Boys and Girls, in Canvas—

772 The hallowing of Pain Like hallowing of Heaven, Obtains at a corporeal cost— The Summit is not given