Not To Sink Under Being Man And

Leaves And Bark, Leaves And Bark, To Lean Against And Hear In The Dark. Petals I May Have Once Pursued. Leaves Are All My Darker Mood.

New Is A Word For Fools In Towns Who Think Style Upon Style In Dress And Thought At Last Must Get Somewhere.

Nature's Never Quite Sure She Hasn't Erred In Her Vague Design.

There Is Little Much Beyond The Grave, But The Strong Are Saying Nothing Until They See.

Poetry Should Be Common In Experience But Uncommon In Books.