As an Evening West,
To a fine, pedantic sunshine—
In a satin Vest!
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751
His Merit—all my fear—Contrasting which, my qualityDo lowlier—appear—Lest I should insufficient proveFor His beloved Need—The Chiefest ApprehensionUpon my thronging Mind—‘Tis true—that Deity to stoopInherently incline—For nothing higher than ItselfItself can rest upon—So I—the undivine abodeOf His Elect Content—Conform my Soul—as ’twere a Church,Unto Her Sacrament—
781
If Love be just beyond—To wait Eternity—is short—If Love reward the end—
475
‘Tis entered from the Sun—And then the Ladder’s thrown away,Because Escape—is done—‘Tis varied by the DreamOf what they do outside—Where Squirrels play—and Berries die—And Hemlocks—bow—to God—
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The loss of an Estate—Because Estates can beReplenished—faith cannot—Inherited with Life—Belief—but once—can be—Annihilate a single clause—And Being’s—Beggary—
870
The second, loss,Third, Expedition forThe ‘Golden Fleece’Fourth, no Discovery—Fifth, no Crew—Finally, no Golden Fleece—Jason—sham—too.
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By suffering—Despair—To be assisted of ReverseOne must Reverse have bore—The Worthiness of Suffering likeThe Worthiness of DeathIs ascertained by tasting—As can no other MouthOf Savors—make us conscious—As did ourselves partake—Affliction feels impalpableUntil Ourselves are struck—