The Truth I Do Not Dare To

After Great Pain, A Formal Feeling Comes. The Nerves Sit Ceremonious, Like Tombs.

Presentiment Is That Long Shadow On The Lawn Indicative That Suns Go Down; The Notice To The Startled Grass That Darkness Is About To Pass.

Superiority To Fate Is Difficult To Gain 'tis Not Conferred Of Any But Possible To Earn.

Some Keep The Sabbath Going To Church, I Keep It Staying At Home, With A Bobolink For A Chorister, And An Orchard For A Dome.

In This Short Life That Only Lasts Ah Hour How Much-how Little-is Within Our Power.