266 This—is the land—the Sunset washe… These—are the Banks of the Yellow… Where it rose—or whither it rushes… These—are the Western Mystery!

Not in this world to see his face Sounds long, until I read the pla… Where this is said to be But just the primer to a life Unopened, rare, upon the shelf,

364 The Morning after Woe— ’Tis frequently the Way— Surpasses all that rose before— For utter Jubilee—

293 I got so I could take his name— Without—Tremendous gain— That Stop-sensation—on my Soul— And Thunder—in the Room—

I hide myself within my flower, That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower,

The Savior must have been A docile Gentleman— To come so far so cold a Day For little Fellowmen— The Road to Bethlehem

241 I like a look of Agony, Because I know it’s true— Men do not sham Convulsion, Nor simulate, a Throe—

542 I had no Cause to be awake— My Best—was gone to sleep— And Morn a new politeness took— And failed to wake them up—

Me! Come! My dazzled face In such a shining place! Me! Hear! My foreign ear The sounds of welcome near! The saints shall meet

Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could… Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions—

427 I’ll clutch—and clutch— Next—One—Might be the golden touc… Could take it— Diamonds—Wait—