Being All Fashioned Of The Self-same Dust,

Very Hot And Still The Air Was, Very Smooth The Gliding River, Motionless The Sleeping Shadows.

The Sun Is Set; And In His Latest Beams Yon Little Cloud Of Ashen Gray And Gold, Slowly Upon The Amber Air Unrolled, The Falling Mantle Of The Prophet Seems.

We See But Dimly Through The Mists And Vapors; Amid These Earthly Damps What Seem To Us But Sad, Funereal Tapers May Be Heaven's Distant Lamps.

Love Keeps The Cold Out Better Than A Cloak.

Love Is Sunshine, Hate Is Shadow, Life Is Checkered Shade And Sunshine.