896 Of Silken Speech and Specious Sh… A Traitor is the Bee His service to the newest Grace Present continually

325 Of Tribulation, these are They, Denoted by the White— The Spangled Gowns, a lesser Ran… Of Victors—designate—

Pain—has an Element of Blank— It cannot recollect When it begun—or if there were A time when it was not— It has no Future—but itself—

XXIX THE nearest dream recedes, unreal… The heaven we chase Like the June bee Before the school—boy

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

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

369 She lay as if at play Her life had leaped away— Intending to return— But not so soon—

312 Her—“last Poems”— Poets—ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled other,

653 Of Being is a Bird The likest to the Down An Easy Breeze do put afloat The General Heavens—upon—

Whether they have forgotten Or are forgetting now Or never remembered - Safer not to know - Miseries of conjecture

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—

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?

Exhilaration is the Breeze That lifts us from the Ground And leaves us in another place Whose statement is not found - Returns us not, but after time

992 The Dust behind I strove to join Unto the Disk before— But Sequence ravelled out of Soun… Like Balls upon a Floor—

961 Wert Thou but ill—that I might sh… How long a Day I could endure Though thine attention stop not on… Nor the least signal, Me assure—