887 We outgrow love, like other things And put it in the Drawer— Till it an Antique fashion shows— Like Costumes Grandsires wore.

564 My period had come for Prayer— No other Art—would do— My Tactics missed a rudiment— Creator—Was it you?

913 And this of all my Hopes This, is the silent end Bountiful colored, my Morning ros… Early and sere, its end

886 These tested Our Horizon— Then disappeared As Birds before achieving A Latitude.

917 Love—is anterior to Life— Posterior—to Death— Initial of Creation, and The Exponent of Earth—

Fame is a fickle food Upon a shifting plate Whose table once a Guest but not The second time is set.

685 Not “Revelation”—'tis—that waits, But our unfurnished eyes—

947 Of Tolling Bell I ask the cause? “A Soul has gone to Heaven” I’m answered in a lonesome tone— Is Heaven then a Prison?

90 Within my reach! I could have touched! I might have chanced that way! Soft sauntered thro’ the village—

To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn't hurt— It's only fainter—by degrees— And then—it's out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day—

Yesterday is History, ’Tis so far away - Yesterday is Poetry - ’Tis Philosophy - Yesterday is mystery -

344 ’Twas the old—road—through pain— That unfrequented—One— With many a turn—and thorn— That stops—at Heaven—