83 Heart, not so heavy as mine Wending late home— As it passed my window Whistled itself a tune—

153 Dust is the only Secret— Death, the only One You cannot find out all about In his “native town.”

You love the Lord—you cannot see— You write Him—every day— A little note—when you awake— And further in the Day. An Ample Letter—How you miss—

910 Experience is the Angled Road Preferred against the Mind By—Paradox—the Mind itself— Presuming it to lead

612 It would have starved a Gnat— To live so small as I— And yet I was a living Child— With Food’s necessity

464 The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place—

846 Twice had Summer her fair Verdure Proffered to the Plain— Twice a Winter’s silver Fracture On the Rivers been—

855 To own the Art within the Soul The Soul to entertain With Silence as a Company And Festival maintain

XXXVII LOVE is anterior to life, Posterior to death, Initial of creation, and The exponent of breath.

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”

927 Absent Place—an April Day— Daffodils a-blow Homesick curiosity To the Souls that snow—