All men for Honor hardest work But are not known to earn - Paid after they have ceased to wor… In Infamy or Urn -

XVII WHEN night is almost done, And sunrise grows so near That we can touch the spaces, It ’s time to smooth the hair

Escape is such a thankful Word I often in the Night Consider it unto myself No spectacle in sight Escape - it is the Basket

348 I would not paint—a picture— I’d rather be the One It’s bright impossibility To dwell—delicious—on—

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

A Sloop of Amber slips away Upon an Ether Sea, And wrecks in Peace a Purple Tar… The Son of Ecstasy -

250 I shall keep singing! Birds will pass me On their way to Yellower Climes— Each—with a Robin’s expectation—

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

569 I reckon—when I count at all— First—Poets—Then the Sun— Then Summer—Then the Heaven of G… And then—the List is done—

42 A Day! Help! Help! Another Day! Your prayers, oh Passer by! From such a common ball as this Might date a Victory!

Growth of Man—like Growth of Nat… Gravitates within— Atmosphere, and Sun endorse it— Bit it stir—alone— Each—its difficult Ideal

Each life converges to some centre Expressed or still; Exists in every human nature A goal, Admitted scarcely to itself, it ma…

We don’t cry—Tim and I, We are far too grand— But we bolt the door tight To prevent a friend— Then we hide our brave face