367 Over and over, like a Tune— The Recollection plays— Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise—

Could mortal lip divine The undeveloped Freight Of a delivered syllable ‘Twould crumble with the weight.

A little road not made of man, Enabled of the eye, Accessible to thill of bee, Or cart of butterfly. If town it have, beyond itself,

292 If your Nerve, deny you— Go above your Nerve— He can lean against the Grave, If he fear to swerve—

850 I sing to use the Waiting My Bonnet but to tie And shut the Door unto my House No more to do have I

422 More Life’—went out’—when He went Than Ordinary Breath’— Lit with a finer Phosphor’— Requiring in the Quench’—

49 I never lost as much but twice, And that was in the sod. Twice have I stood a beggar Before the door of God!

430 It would never be Common — more —… Difference — had begun — Many a bitterness — had been — But that old sort — was done —

175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—

Because I could not stop for Deat… He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselv… And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste,

220 Could I’—then’—shut the door’— Lest my beseeching face’—at last’— Rejected’—be’—of Her?

93 Went up a year this evening! I recollect it well! Amid no bells nor bravoes The bystanders will tell!

We like March, his shoes are purp… He is new and high; Makes he mud for dog and peddler, Makes he forest dry; Knows the adder’s tongue his comin…

468 The Manner of its Death When Certain it must die— ’Tis deemed a privilege to choose— ’Twas Major Andre’s Way—