I Stepped From Plank To Plank A

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

I Could Not Stop For Death And He Did Not Stop For Me.

I Stepped From Plank To Plank A Slow And Cautious Way

Banish Air From Air Divide Light If You Dare