372 I know lives, I could miss Without a Misery— Others—whose instant’s wanting— Would be Eternity—

How lonesome the Wind must feel N… When people have put out the Ligh… And everything that has an Inn Closes the shutter and goes in— How pompous the Wind must feel No…

661 Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me

991 She sped as Petals of a Rose Offended by the Wind— A frail Aristocrat of Time Indemnity to find—

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—

Perhaps I asked too large— I take—no less than skies— For Earths, grow thick as Berries, in my native town— My Basked holds—just—Firmaments—

A Word dropped careless on a Page May stimulate an eye When folded in perpetual seam The Wrinkled Maker lie Infection in the sentence breeds

631 Ourselves were wed one summer—dear… Your Vision—was in June— And when Your little Lifetime fai… I wearied—too—of mine—

348 I would not paint—a picture— I’d rather be the One It’s bright impossibility To dwell—delicious—on—