475 Doom is the House without the Doo… ’Tis entered from the Sun— And then the Ladder’s thrown away… Because Escape—is done—

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”

Some Days retired from the rest In soft distinction lie The Day that a Companion came Or was obliged to die

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,

308 I send Two Sunsets— Day and I—in competition ran— I finished Two—and several Stars— While He—was making One—

724 It’s easy to invent a Life— God does it—every Day— Creation—but the Gambol Of His Authority—

549 That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived—Enough—

To make a prairie it takes a clove… One clover, and a bee. And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.

649 Her Sweet turn to leave the Homes… Came the Darker Way— Carriages—Be Sure—and Guests—too… But for Holiday

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…

Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds