Sunrise: Day's Great Progenitor.

Fame Is A Fickle Food Upon A Shifting Plate, Whose Table Once A Guest, But Not The Second Time, Is Set. Whose Crumbs The Crows Inspect, And With Ironic Caw Flap Past It To The Farmer's Corn; Men Eat Of It And Die.

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.

Heart, We Will Forget Him! You And I, To-night! You May Forget The Warmth He Gave, I Will Forget The Light. When You Have Done, Pray Tell Me, That I My Thoughts May Dim; Haste! Lest While You’re Lagging, I May Remember Him!

The Pleading Of The Summer - That Other Prank - Of Snow - That Cushions Mystery With Tulle, For Fear The Squirrels - Know.

The Service Without Hope Is Tenderest, I Think-- ... There Is No Diligence Like That That Knows Not An Until