For 'tis Not In Mere Death That

I, Who Thought To Sink, Was Caught Up Into Love, And Taught The Whole Of Life In A New Rhythm.

I Should Not Dare To Call My Soul My Own.

As The Moths Around A Taper, As The Bees Around A Rose, As The Gnats Around A Vapour, So The Spirits Group And Close Round About A Holy Childhood, As If Drinking Its Repose.

Folded Eyes See Brighter Colors Than The Open Ever Do.

She Lived, We'll Say, A Harmless Life, She Called A Virtuous Life, A Quiet Life, Which Was Not Life At All (but That She Had Not Lived Enough To Know)