863 That Distance was between Us That is not of Mile or Main— The Will it is that situates— Equator—never can—

157 Musicians wrestle everywhere— All day—among the crowded air I hear the silver strife— And—walking—long before the morn—

XLIII I LIKE to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step

141 Some, too fragile for winter winds The thoughtful grave encloses— Tenderly tucking them in from fros… Before their feet are cold.

I cannot live with You— It would be Life— And Life is over there— Behind the Shelf The Sexton keeps the Key to—

Publication—is the Auction Of the Mind of Man— Poverty—be justifying For so foul a thing Possibly—but We—would rather

123 Many cross the Rhine In this cup of mine. Sip old Frankfort air From my brown Cigar.

Pain has an element of blank; It cannot recollect When it began, or if there were A day when it was not. It has no future but itself,