784 Bereaved of all, I went abroad— No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula— The Grave preceded me—

XXVIII I BRING an unaccustomed wine To lips long parching, next to min… And summon them to drink. Crackling with fever, they essay;

601 A still—Volcano—Life— That flickered in the night— When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight—

945 This is a Blossom of the Brain— A small—italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified—

The Road was lit with Moon and st… The Trees were bright and still - Descried I - by the distant Ligh… A Traveller on a Hill - To magic Perpendiculars

694 The Heaven vests for Each In that small Deity It craved the grace to worship Some bashful Summer’s Day—

Wild Nights! Wild Nights! Were I with thee, Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile the winds

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

837 How well I knew Her not Whom not to know has been A Bounty in prospective, now Next Door to mine the Pain.

101 Will there really be a “Morning”? Is there such a thing as “Day”? Could I see it from the mountains If I were as tall as they?