So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

I Held A Jewel In My Fingers And Went To Sleep. The Day Was Warm, And Winds Were Prosy; I Said: "'t Will Keep." I Woke And Chid My Honest Fingers,— The Gem Was Gone; And Now An Amethyst Remembrance Is All I Own.

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word

Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows— 'tis Not A Different Time— Except For Infiniteness— And Latitude Of Home