What Will The Solemn Hemlock- What Will

The Words The Happy Say Are Paltry Melody But Those The Silent Feel Are Beautiful-.

God, Keep Me From What They Call 'households,'

Sweet Skepticism Of The Heart That Knows And Does Not Know And Tosses Like A Fleet Of Balm Affronted By The Snow.

How Much Can Come And Much Can Go, And Yet Abide The World!

I . . . Am Small, Like The Wren, And My Hair Is Bold Like The Chestnut Burr; And My Eyes Like The Sherry In The Glass That The Guest Leaves.