184 A transport one cannot contain May yet a transport be— Though God forbid it lift the lid… Unto its Ecstasy!

912 Peace is a fiction of our Faith— The Bells a Winter Night Bearing the Neighbor out of Sound That never did alight.

I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me. And frigates in the upper floor

567 He gave away his Life— To Us—Gigantic Sum— A trifle—in his own esteem— But magnified—by Fame—

395 Reverse cannot befall That fine Prosperity Whose Sources are interior— As soon—Adversity

203 He forgot—and I—remembered— ’Twas an everyday affair— Long ago as Christ and Peter— “Warmed them” at the “Temple fire…

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,

1540 As imperceptibly as Grief The Summer lapsed away— Too imperceptible at last To seem like Perfidy—

491 While it is alive Until Death touches it While it and I lap one Air Dwell in one Blood

242 When we stand on the tops of Thin… And like the Trees, look down— The smoke all cleared away from it… And Mirrors on the scene—

782 There is an arid Pleasure— As different from Joy— As Frost is different from Dew— Like element—are they—