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

A feather from the Whippoorwill
That everlasting—sings!
Whose galleries—are Sunrise—
Whose Opera—the Springs—
Whose Emerald Nest the Ages spin

I never saw a moor,
I never saw the sea;
Yet now I know how the heather lo
And what a wave must be.
I never spoke with God,

864
The Robin for the Crumb
Returns no syllable
But long records the Lady’s name
In Silver Chronicle.

877
Each Scar I’ll keep for Him
Instead I’ll say of Gem
In His long Absence worn
A Costlier one

Faith is a fine invention
For gentlemen who see;
But microscopes are prudent
In an emergency!

970
Color’—Caste’—Denomination’—
These’—are Time’s Affair’—
Death’s diviner Classifying
Does not know they are’—

938
Fairer through Fading’—as the Day
Into the Darkness dips away’—
Half Her Complexion of the Sun’—
Hindering’—Haunting’—Perishing’—

101
Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Escape is such a thankful Word
I often in the Night
Consider it unto myself
No spectacle in sight
Escape - it is the Basket