260
Read—Sweet—how others—strove—
Till we—are stouter—
What they—renounced—
Till we—are less afraid—

353
A happy lip—breaks sudden—
It doesn’t state you how
It contemplated—smiling—
Just consummated—now—

God gave a loaf to every bird,
But just a crumb to me;
I dare not eat it, though I starv
My poignant luxury
To own it, touch it, prove the fea

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

27
Morns like these—we parted—
Noons like these—she rose—
Fluttering first—then firmer
To her fair repose.

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

370
Heaven is so far of the Mind
That were the Mind dissolved—
The Site—of it—by Architect
Could not again be proved—

194
On this long storm the Rainbow ro
On this late Morn—the Sun—
The clouds—like listless Elephant
Horizons—straggled down—

A toad can die of light!
Death is the common right
Of toads and men,—
Of earl and midge
The privilege.

300
‘Morning’—means 'Milking’—to the
Dawn’—to the Teneriffe’—
Dice’—to the Maid’—
Morning means just Risk’—to the L