And May We Find When Ended Is

I Hold That When A Person Dies / His Soul Returns Again To Earth; / Arrayed In Some New Flesh Disguise / Another Mother Gives Him Birth / With Sturdier Limbs And Brighter Brain.

Heaven To Me's A Fair Blue Stretch Of Sky, Earth's Jest A Dusty Road.

Man Cannot Call The Brimming Instant Back; Time's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Days; If Man Must Make An Instant Gold, Or Black, Let Him, He May; But Time Must Go His Ways. Life May Be Duller For An Instant's Blaze. Life's An Affair Of Instants Spun To Years, Instants Are Only Cause Of All These Tears.

Life's Battle Is A Conquest For The Strong; The Meaning Shows In The Defeated Thing.

Commonplace People Dislike Tragedy Because They Dare Not Suffer And Cannot Exult.