312 Her—last Poems— Poets ended— Silver—perished—with her Tongue— Not on Record—bubbled Other,

575 “Heaven” has different Signs—to m… Sometimes, I think that Noon Is but a symbol of the Place— And when again, at Dawn,

XII I CANNOT live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf

LXIII TALK with prudence to a beggar Of “Potosi” and the mines! Reverently to the hungry Of your viands and your wines!

439 Undue Significance a starving man… To Food— Far off—He sighs—and therefore—Ho… And therefore—Good—

968 Fitter to see Him, I may be For the long Hindrance—Grace—to… With Summers, and with Winters, g… Some passing Year—A trait bestow

To flee from memory Had we the Wings Many would fly Inured to slower things Birds with surprise

200 I stole them from a Bee— Because—Thee— Sweet plea— He pardoned me!

I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains,

I breathed enough to learn the tri… And now, removed from air, I simulate the breath so well, That one, to be quite sure The lungs are stirless, must desce…

856 There is a finished feeling Experienced at Graves— A leisure of the Future— A Wilderness of Size.

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

224 I've nothing else—to bring, You k… So I keep bringing These— Just as the Night keeps fetching… To our familiar eyes—

228 Blazing in Gold and quenching in… Leaping like Leopards to the Sky Then at the feet of the old Horiz… Laying her spotted Face to die