958 We met as Sparks—Diverging Flint… Sent various—scattered ways— We parted as the Central Flint Were cloven with an Adze—

The words the happy say Are paltry melody But those the silent feel Are beautiful—

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…

God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starv… My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the fea…

27 Morns like these—we parted— Noons like these—she rose— Fluttering first—then firmer To her fair repose.

252 I can wade Grief— Whole Pools of it— I’m used to that— But the least push of Joy

450 Dreams—are well—but Waking’s bett… If One wake at morn— If One wake at Midnight—better— Dreaming—of the Dawn—

373 I’m saying every day “If I should be a Queen, tomorrow… I’d do this way— And so I deck, a little,

892 Who occupies this House? A Stranger I must judge Since No one know His Circumstan… ’Tis well the name and age

XL THE thought beneath so slight a f… Is more distinctly seen,— As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.