957 As One does Sickness over In convalescent Mind, His scrutiny of Chances By blessed Health obscured—

312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,

Who were “the Father and the Son” We pondered when a child, And what had they to do with us And when portentous told With inference appalling

Good night! which put the candle o… A jealous zephyr, not a doubt. Ah! friend, you little knew How long at that celestial wick The angels labored diligent;

110 Artists wrestled here! Lo, a tint Cashmere! Lo, a Rose! Student of the Year!

117 In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go— Veiling the purple, and the plumes… Veiling the ermine so.

STEP lightly on this narrow spot… The broadest land that grows Is not so ample as the breast These emerald seams enclose. Step lofty; for this name is told

I had been hungry all the years– My noon had come, to dine– I, trembling, drew the table near And touched the curious wine. ‘T was this on tables I had seen

There is another sky, Ever serene and fair, And there is another sunshine, Though it be darkness there; Never mind faded forests, Austin,

671 She dwelleth in the Ground— Where Daffodils—abide— Her Maker—Her Metropolis— The Universe—Her Maid—

Our lives are Swiss— So still—so Cool— Till some odd afternoon The Alps neglect their Curtains And we look farther on!

175 I have never seen “Volcanoes”— But, when Travellers tell How those old—phlegmatic mountains Usually so still—

806 A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—'tis when