Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back

Sometimes Thou Seem'st Not As Thyself Alone, But As The Meaning Of All Things That Are.

Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He It Was (the Aged Legends Say) Who First Taught Art To Fold Her Hands And Pray.

Unto The Man Of Yearning Thought And Aspiration, To Do Nought Is In Itself Almost An Act.

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

I Do Not See Them Here; But After Death God Knows I Know The Faces I Shall See, Each One A Murdered Self, With Low Last Breath. 'i Am Thyself,what Hast Thou Done To Me?' 'and Iand Ithyself,' (lo! Each One Saith,) 'and Thou Thyself To All Eternity!