I Could Not Prove The Years Had

And Then--a Day As Huge As Yesterdays In Pairs, Unrolled Its Horror In My Face-- Until It Blocked My Eyes

Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

Sunrise: Day's Great Progenitor.

To See Her Is A Picture- To Hear Her Is A Tune- To Know Her An Intemperance As Innocent As June- To Know Her Not-affliction- To Own Her For A Friend A Warmth As Near As If The The Sun Were Shining In Your Hand.