But The More Poetry One Reads The

I Think I Hate Snow, Downright Hate It. There Is Something Stupefying In It, A Kind Of 'you Must Be Worse Before You're Better,' And Down It Spins.

The Mind I Love Must Have Wild Places.

Bless You, My Darling, And Remember You Are Always In The Heart - Oh Tucked So Close There Is No Chance Of Escape - Of Your Sister.

What Happiness It Is To Listen To Rain At Night; Joyful Relief, Ease; A Lapping-round And Hushing And Brooding Tenderness, All Are Mingled Together In The Sound Of The Fast-falling Rain. God, Looking Down Upon The Rainy Earth, Sees How Faint Are These Lights Shining In Little Windows, - How Easily Put Out.

That Is The Fearful Part Of Having Been Near Death. One Knows How Easy It Is To Die. The Barriers That Are Up For Everybody Else Are Down For You, And You've Only To Slip Through.