When Memory is full Put on the perfect Lid - This Morning’s finest syllable Presumptuous Evening said -

479 She dealt her pretty words like B… How glittering they shone— And every One unbared a Nerve Or wantoned with a Bone—

687 I’ll send the feather from my Hat… Who knows—but at the sight of that My Sovereign will relent? As trinket—worn by faded Child—

679 Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—

592 What care the Dead, for Chanticle… What care the Dead for Day? ’Tis late your Sunrise vex their… And Purple Ribaldry—of Morning

789 On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty

107 ’Twas such a little—little boat That toddled down the bay! ’Twas such a gallant—gallant sea That beckoned it away!

To my quick ear the leaves conferr… The bushes they were bells; I could not find a privacy From Nature’s sentinels. In cave if I presumed to hide,

LV MY country need not change her go… Her triple suit as sweet As when ’t was cut at Lexington, And first pronounced “a fit.”

XXXVI I NEVER hear the word “escape” Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude.

It struck me every day The lightning was as new As if the cloud that instant slit And let the fire through. It burned me in the night,

The Hills erect their Purple Hea… The Rivers lean to see Yet Man has not of all the Throng A Curiosity.