645 Bereavement in their death to feel Whom We have never seen— A Vital Kinsmanship import Our Soul and theirs—between—

777 The Loneliness One dare not sound… And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size—

845 Be Mine the Doom— Sufficient Fame— To perish in Her Hand!

458 Like eyes that looked on Wastes— Incredulous of Ought But Blank—and steady Wilderness— Diversified by Night—

959 A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect

XII I ASKED no other thing, No other was denied. I offered Being for it; The mighty merchant smiled.

The reticent volcano keeps His never slumbering plan - Confided are his projects pink To no precarious man. If nature will not tell the tale

466 ’Tis little I—could care for Pear… Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me—

366 Although I put away his life— An Ornament too grand For Forehead low as mine, to wear… This might have been the Hand

150 She died—this was the way she died… And when her breath was done Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun—

322 There came a Day at Summer’s full… Entirely for me— I thought that such were for the… Where Resurrections—be—

A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds

Much Madness is divinest Sense - To a discerning Eye - Much Sense– the starkest Madness… ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail -

Silence is all we dread. There’s Ransom in a Voice - But Silence is Infinity. Himself have not a face.