200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!

563 I could not prove the Years had f… Yet confident they run Am I, from symptoms that are past And Series that are done—

Dare you see a Soul at the White… Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions…

They shut me up in Prose— As when a little Girl They put me in the Closet— Because they liked me “still”— Still! Could themself have peeped…

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

Part One: Life XXXV I CAN wade grief, Whole pools of it,— I ’m used to that.

32 When Roses cease to bloom, Sir, And Violets are done— When Bumblebees in solemn flight Have passed beyond the Sun—

496 As far from pity, as complaint— As cool to speech—as stone— As numb to Revelation As if my Trade were Bone—

83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

862 Light is sufficient to itself— If Others want to see It can be had on Window Panes Some Hours in the Day.

460 I know where Wells grow’—Droughtl… Deep dug’—for Summer days’— Where Mosses go no more away’— And Pebble’—safely plays’—

XIX I STARTED early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me,