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Nature Is What We See - The Hill, The Afternoon, Squirrel, Eclipse, The Bumblebee. Nay, Nature Is Heaven. Nature Is What We Hear...

-Emily Dickinson

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Nature Is What We

Emily Dickinson

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Nature Is What We See - The Hill, The Afternoon, Squirrel, Eclipse, The Bumblebee. Nay, Nature Is Heaven. Nature Is What We Hear...

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A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King.

There's A Certain Slant Of Light, Winter Afternoons— That Oppresses, Like The Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, It Gives Us— We Can Find No Scar, But Internal Difference, Where The Meanings, Are.... When It Comes, The Landscape Listens— Shadows—hold Their Breath— When It Goes, 'tis Like The Distance On The Look Of Death.

For Love Is Immortality.

The Truth Dazzles Gradually, Or Else The World Would Be Blind.

To See Her Is A Picture- To Hear Her Is A Tune- To Know Her An Intemperance As Innocent As June- To Know Her Not-affliction- To Own Her For A Friend A Warmth As Near As If The The Sun Were Shining In Your Hand.

Does Not Eternity Appear Dreadful To You. I Often Get To Thinking Of It And It Seems So Dark To Me That I Almost Wish There Was No Eternity. To Think That We Must Forever Live And Never Cease To Be. It Seems As If Death Would Be A Relief To So Endless A State Of Existence.

Saying Nothing... Sometimes Says The Most.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, One Clover, And A Bee, And Revery. The Revery Alone Will Do, If Bees Are Few.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

I Cling To Nowhere Until I Fall - The Crash Of Nothing.

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.

To Travel Far, There Is No Better Ship Than A Book.

November Always Seemed To Me The Norway Of The Year.

Dreams Are The Subtle Dower That Make Us Rich An Hour Then Fling Us Poor Out Of The Purple Door.

Some Arrows Slay But Whom They Strike - But This Slew All But Him - Who So Appareled His Escape - Too Trackless For A Tomb

Not 'revelation'-'tis That Waits/ But Our Unfurnished Eyes

The Abdication Of Belief Makes The Behavior Small- Better An Ignis Fatuus Than No Illume At All.

I Never Lost As Much But Twice, And That Was In The Sod.

There Is Always One Thing To Be Grateful For - That One Is One's Self And Not Somebody Else.

This World Is Not Conclusion. A Sequel Stands Beyond- Invisible, As Music- But Positive, As Sound.

No Ladder Needs The Bird But Skies To Situate Its Wings, Nor Any Leaders Grim Baton Arraigns It As It Sings.

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I With Thee Wild Nights Should Be Our Luxury! Futile – The Winds – To A Heart In Port – Done With The Compass – Done With The Chart! Rowing In Eden – Ah, The Sea! Might I Moor – Tonight – In Thee!

A Precious, Mouldering Pleasure 't Is To Meet An Antique Book In Just The Dress His Century Wore; A Privilege, I Think, His Venerable Hand To Take, And Warming In Our Own, A Passage Back, Or Two, To Make To Times When He Was Young. His Quaint Opinions To Inspect, His Knowledge To Unfold On What Concerns Our Mutual Mind, The Literature Of Old.

Write Me Of Hope And Love, And Hearts That Endured.

I Hope Your Rambles Have Been Sweet, And Your Reveries Spacious

Those Who Have Not Found The Heaven Below, Will Fail Of It Above.

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.

The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest Forgot.

The Distance That The Dead Have Gone Does Not At First Appear- Their Coming Back Seems Possible For Many An Ardent Year.

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

Life Is A Spell So Exquisite That Everything Conspires To Break It.

Vinnie Rocks Her Garden And Moans That God Won't Help Her. I Suppose He Is Too Busy Getting Angry With The Wicked Every Day.

That Love Is All There Is, Is All We Know Of Love.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

The Sweets Of Pillage Can Be Known To No One But The Thief, Compassion For Integrity Is His Divinest Grief.

I Am Going To Learn To Make Bread Tomorrow. So If You May Imagine Me With My Sleeves Rolled Up, Mixing Flour, Milk, Saleratus, Etc., With A Deal Of Grace. I Advise You If You Dont Know How To Make The Staff Of Life To Learn With Dispatch.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.

Answer July- Where Is The Bee- Where Is The Blush- Where Is The Hay? Ah, Said July- Where Is The Seed- Where Is The Bud- Where Is The May- Answer Thee-me-

If Aims Impel These Astral Ones The Ones Allowed To Know Know That Which Makes Them As Forgot As Dawn Forgets Them Now

How Do Most People Live Without Any Thought? There Are Many People In The World,--you Must Have Noticed Them In The Street,--how Do They Live? How Do They Get Strength To Put On Their Clothes In The Morning?

I Fear A Man Of Frugal Speech - I Fear A Silent Man - Haranguer - I Can Overtake - Or Babbler - Entertain - But He Who Weigheth - While The Rest - Expend Their Furthest Pound - Of This Man - I Am Wary - I Fear That He Is Grand -

Spring Is The Period Express From God. Among The Other Seasons Himself Abide, But During March And April None Stir Abroad Without A Cordial Interview With God.

I Stepped From Plank To Plank A Slow And Cautious Way

I Felt A Cleaving In My Mind- As If My Brain Had Split- I Tried To Match It- Seam By Seam- But Could Not Make It Fit.

Good Times Are Always Mutual; That Is What Makes Good Times.

Fortune Befriends The Bold.

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

The Steeples Swam In Amethyst, The News Like Squirrels Swam.

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several- Childhood-some Forms Of Hope-the Dead- Though Joys-like Men-may Sometimes Make A Journey- And Still Abide-.

Unable Are The Loved To Die For Love Is Immortality, Nay, It Is Deity - Unable They That Love - To Die For Love Reforms Vitality Into Divinity.

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

The Soul Unto Itself Is An Imperial Friend, - Or The Most Agonizing Spy - An Enemy - Could Send -

I Don't Profess To Be Profound; But I Do Lay Claim To Common Sense.

Words Of Wisdom

Drab Habitation Of Whom? Tabernacle Or Tomb - Or Dome Of Worm - Or Porch Of Gnome - Or Some Elf's Catacomb?

A Dim Capacity For Wings Demeans The Dress I Wear.

It Is True That The Unknown Is The Largest Need Of The Intellect, Though For It, No One Thinks To Thank God.

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King, But God Be With The Clown, Who Ponders This Tremendous Scene-- This Whole Experiment In Green, As If It Were His Own!

September's Baccalaureate A Combination Is Of Crickets - Crows - And Retrospects And A Dissembling Breeze That Hints Without Assuming - An Innuendo Sear That Makes The Heart Put Up Its Fun And Turn Philosopher.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

What Shall We Do My Darling, When Trial Grows More, And More, When The Dim, Lone Light Expires, And It's Dark, So Very Dark, And We Wander, And Know Not Where, And Cannot Get Out Of The Forest - Whose Is The Hand To Help Us, And To Lead, And Forever Guide Us? ... Where Do You Think I've Strayed And From What New Errand Returned. I Have Come From To And Fro, And Walking Up And Down The Same Place That Satan Hailed From When God Asked Where He'd Been.

To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry, Though Never In A Book It Lie— True Poems Flee—

A Murmur In The Trees - To Note - Not Loud Enough - For Wind - A Star - Not Far Enough To Seek - Nor Near Enough - To Find

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar.

To Be Alive──is Power.

There Is A Pain So Utter, It Swallows Being Up; The Covers The Abyss With A Trance So Memory Can Step Around, Across, Upon It.

Heart, We Will Forget Him, You And I, Tonight! You Must Forget The Warmth He Gave, I Will Forget The Light.

We Outgrow Love Like Other Things And Put It In A Drawer, Till It An Antique Fashion Shows Like Costumes Grandsires Wore.

The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands / To Gather Paradise-.

Love Can Do All But Raise The Dead I Doubt If Even That From Such A Giant Were Withheld Were Flesh Equivalent But Love Is Tired And Must Sleep, And Hungry And Must Graze And So Abets The Shining Fleet Till It Is Out Of Gaze.

The Appetite For Silence Is Seldom An Acquired Taste.

One Step At A Time Is All It Takes To Get You There.

One Step At A Time

I Started Early, Took My Dog, And Visited The Sea; The Mermaids In The Basement Came Out To Look At Me

Drunkards Of Summer Are Quite As Frequent As Drunkards Of Wine.

The Heart Asks Pleasure First, And Then, Excuse From Pain; And Then, Those Little Anodynes That Deaden Suffering; And Then, To Go To Sleep; And Then, If It Should Be The Will Of Its Inquisitor, The Liberty To Die.

Why Should We Censure Othello When The Criterion Lover Says, "thou Shalt Have No Other Gods Before Me"?

Portraits Are To Daily Faces As An Evening West To A Fine, Pedantic Sunshine In A Satin Vest.

Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We, At Our Supremest, Are But Its Trembling Emblems.

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.

My Friends Are My Estate. Forgive Me Then The Avarice To Hoard Them!

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry. If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry. These Are The Only Ways I Know It. Is There Any Other Way?

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

His Cheek Is His Biographer- As Long As He Can Blush.

I Dwell In Possibility A Fairer House Than Prose More Numerous Of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers As The Cedars Impregnable Of Eye And For An Everlasting Roof The Gambrels Of The Sky Of Visitors--the Fairest For Occupation--this The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands To Gather Paradise

Twin Loaves Of Bread Have Just Been Born Into The World Under My Auspices. Fine Children, The Image Of Their Mother. And Here, My Dear Friend, Is The Glory.

My Friends Are My Estate. Forgive Me Then The Avarice To Hoard Them. They Tell Me Those Who Were Poor Early Have Different Views Of Gold. I Don't Know How That Is. God Is Not So Wary As We, Else He Would Give Us No Friends, Lest We Forget Him.

I Cannot Help Esteem The 'bird Within The Hand' Superior To The One The 'bush' May Yield Me Or May Not Too Late To Choose Again

I Never Saw A Meme; I Never Saw The Sea.

The Vastest Earthly Day Is Shrunken Small By One Defaulting Face Behind A Pall.

He Ate And Drank The Precious Words, His Spirit Grew Robust; He Knew No More That He Was Poor, Nor That His Frame Was Dust.

Sunrise: Day's Great Progenitor.

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

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

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.

The Possible's Slow Fuse Is Lit By The Imagination.

Imagination Creativity

If Your Nerve, Deny You - Go Above Your Nerve

Forever Is Comprised Of Nows.

I Do Not Like The Man Who Squanders Life For Fame; Give Me The Man Who Living Makes A Name.

Publication - Is The Auction Of The Mind.

Love Is Like Life-merely Longer.

How Strange That Nature Does Not Knock, And Yet Does Not Intrude!

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

How Frugal Is The Chariot That Bears A Human Soul.

Our Little Kinsmen After Rain In Plenty May Be Seen, A Pink And Pulpy Multitude The Tepid Ground Upon; A Needless Life If Seemed To Me Until A Little Bird As To A Hospitality Advanced And Breakfasted.

This So Much Joy! This So Much Joy! If I Should Fail, What Poverty! And Yet, As Poor As I Have Ventured All Upon A Throw; Have Gained! Yes! Hesitated So This Side The Victory!

Opinion Is A Flitting Thing But Truth Outlasts The Sun.

He Deposes Doom Who Hath Suffered Him.

I Never Saw A Moor, I Never Saw The Sea; Yet Know I How The Heather Looks, And What A Wave Must Be. I Never Spoke With God, Nor Visited In Heaven; Yet Certain Am I Of The Spot, As If A Chart Were Given.

If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry.

She Died--this Was The Way She Died; And When Her Breath Was Done, Took Up Her Simple Wardrobe And Started For The Sun. Her Little Figure At The Gate The Angels Must Have Spied, Since I Could Never Find Her Upon The Mortal Side.

What Fortitude The Soul Contains, That It Can So Endure The Accent Of A Coming Foot- The Opening Of A Door.

There Is No Frigate Like A Book

I'm Nobody! Who Are You? Are You – Nobody – Too? Then There's A Pair Of Us? Don't Tell! They'd Advertise – You Know! How Dreary – To Be – Somebody! How Public – Like A Frog – To Tell One's Name – The Livelong June – To An Admiring Bog!

I Would Paint A Portrait Which Would Bring The Tears, Had I Canvas For It, And The Scene Should Be -- Solitude, And The Figures -- Solitude -- And The Lights And Shades, Each A Solitude.

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several - Childhood - Some Forms Of Hope - The Dead.

Here Is A Little Forest Whose Leaf Is Ever Green; Here Is A Brighter Garden, Where Not A Frost Has Been; In Its Unfading Flowers I Hear The Bright Bee Hum; Prithee, My Brother, Into My Garden Come!

Luck Is Not Chance, It's Toil; Fortune's Expensive Smile Is Earned.

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

A Letter Is A Joy Of Earth - It Is Denied The Gods

After A Hundred Years Nobody Knows The Place, Agony, That Enacted There, Motionless As Peace.

The Dearest Ones Of Time, The Strongest Friends Of The Soul--books.

He Fumbles At Your Spirit As Players At The Keys Before They Drop Full Music On; He Stuns You By Degrees. Prepares Your Brittle Substance For The Ethereal Blow By Fainter Hammers, Further Heard, Then Nearer, Then So Slow Your Breath Has Time To Straighten Your Brain To Bubble Cool,- Deals One Imperial Thunderbolt That Scalps Your Naked Soul.

Nature, Like Us Is Sometimes Caught Without Her Diadem.

When He Tells Us About His Father, We Distrust Him. When He Shows Us His Home, We Turn Away, But When He Confides To Us That He Is Acquainted With Grief, We Listen, For That Also Is An Acquaintance Of Our Own.

Look Back On Time With Kindly Eyes, He Doubtless Did His Best; How Softly Sinks His Trembling Sun In Human Nature's West!

Inebriate Of Air Am I, And Debauchee Of Dew, Reeling, Through Endless Summer Days, From Inns Of Molten Blue.

I Have An Appetite For Silence.

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?

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

We Do Not Play On Graves— Because There Isn't Room— Besides—it Isn't Even—it Slants And People Come— And Put A Flower On It— And Hang Their Faces So— We're Fearing That Their Hearts Will Drop— And Crush Our Pretty Play— And So We Move As Far As Enemies—away— Just Looking Round To See How Far It Is—occasionally—

Time Is Short And Full, Like An Outgrown Frock - .

You Cannot Fold A Flood And Put It In A Drawer, Because The Winds Would Find It Out And Tell Your Cedar Floor.

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

The Supernatural Is Only The Natural Disclosed.

Will You Tell Me My Fault, Frankly As To Yourself, For I Had Rather Wince, Than Die. Men Do Not Call The Surgeon To Commend The Bone, But To Set It, Sir.

The Brain - Is Wider Than The Sky - For - Put Them Side By Side - The One The Other Will Contain With Ease - And You - Beside - The Brain Is Deeper Than The Sea - For- Hold Them - Blue To Blue - The One The Other Will Absorb - As Sponges - Buckets - Do - The Brain Is Just The Weight Of God - For - Heft Them - Pound For Pound - And They Will Differ - If They Do - As Syllable From Sound.

I Had No Monarch In My Life, And Cannot Rule Myself; And When I Try To Organize, My Little Force Explodes And Leaves Me Bare And Charred.

Nature Is What We See - The Hill, The Afternoon, Squirrel, Eclipse, The Bumblebee. Nay, Nature Is Heaven. Nature Is What We Hear...

Judge Tenderly Of Me.

Where Thou Art, That Is Home.

Renunciation-is A Piercing Virtue-the Letting Go A Presence-for An Expectation-.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me; The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves And Immortality. We Slowly Drove, He Knew No Haste, And I Had Put Away My Labour, And My Leisure Too, For His Civility. We Passed The School Where Children Played, Their Lessons Scarcely Done; We Passed The Fields Of Gazing Grain, We Passed The Setting Sun. We Paused Before A House That Seemed A Swelling Of The Ground; The Roof Was Scarcely Visible, The Cornice But A Mound. Since Then 'tis Centuries; But Each Feels Shorter Than The Day I First Surmised The Horses' Heads Were Toward Eternity.

His Labor Is A Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, For A Bee's Experience Of Clovers, And Of Noon!

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.

A Light Exists In Spring Not Present In The Year At Any Other Period When March Is Scarcely Here.

I Have A Bird In Spring Which For Myself Doth Sing - The Spring Decoys. And As The Summer Nears - And As The Rose Appears, Robin Is Gone. Yet Do I Not Repine Knowing That Bird Of Mine Though Flown - Learneth Beyond The Sea Melody New For Me And Will Return.

A Dominie In Gray-- Put Gently Up The Evening Bars-- And Led The Flock Away

How Lucious Lies The Pea Within The Pod.

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

Unable Are The Loved To Die, For Love Is Immortality.

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

And Then--a Day As Huge As Yesterdays In Pairs, Unrolled Its Horror In My Face-- Until It Blocked My Eyes

To Lose Ones Faith-surpass The Loss Of An Estate- Because Estates Can Be Replenished- Faith Cannot-.

To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave, But Gallanter, I Know, Who Charge Within The Bosom, The Cavalry Of Woe.

Nature Is What We Know - Yet Have Not Art To Say - So Impotent Our Wisdom Is To Her Simplicity.

Not One Of All The Purple Host Who Took The Flag To-day Can Tell The Definition So Clear Of Victory, As He, Defeated, Dying, On Whose Forbidden Ear The Distant Strains Of Triumph Break Agonized And Clear.

We Never Know How High We Are Till We Are Called To Rise. Then If We Are True To Form Our Statures Touch The Skies.

Truth Is So Rare That It Is Delightful To Tell It.

A Courteous, Yet Harrowing Grace, As Guest, That Would Be Gone

I Dwell In Possibilities .

Best Witchcraft Is Geometry To The Magician's Mind - His Ordinary Acts Are Feats To Thinking Of Mankind.

Dying Is A Wild Night And A New Road.

Beauty Is Not Caused. It Is.

The Morns Are Meeker Than They Were, The Nuts Are Getting Brown; The Berry's Cheek Is Plumper, The Rose Is Out Of Town. The Maple Wears A Gayer Scarf, The Field A Scarlet Gown. Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense -- To A Discerning Eye -- Much Sense -- The Starkest Madness -- 'tis The Majority In This, As All, Prevail -- Assent -- And You Are Sane -- Demur -- You're Straightway Dangerous -- And Handled With A Chain --

Forever - Is Composed Of Nows - 'tis Not A Different Time... Let Months Dissolve In Further Months - And Years - Exhale In Years.

Heaven Is So Far Of The Mind That Were The Mind Dissolved - The Site Of It By Architect Could Not Again Be Proved.

God's Unique Capacity Is Too Surprising To Surprise.

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

God Gave A Loaf To Every Bird, But Just A Crumb To Me.

Remorse Is Memory Awake.

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

The Brain Is Wider Than The Sky.

Much Madness Is Divinest Sense, To A Discerning Eye.

The Mountain At A Given Distance In Amber Lies; Approached, The Amber Flits A Little,-- And That's The Skies!

A Word Is Dead When It Is Said, Some Say. I Say It Just Begins To Live That Day.

To Shut Your Eyes Is To Travel.

Behavior Is What A Man Does, Not What He Thinks, Feels, Or Believes.

Expectation Is Contentment - Gain Satiety.

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close

They Address An Eclipse Every Morning, Whom They Call Their "father."

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

My River Runs To Thee: Blue Sea, Wilt Welcome Me? My River Waits Reply. Oh Sea, Look Graciously! I ’ll Fetch Thee Brooks From Spotted Nooks,— Say, Sea, Take Me!

So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At Last - I’m Going, All Along.

Had We Less To Say To Those We Love, Perhaps We Should Say It Oftener.

I Died For Beauty--but Was Scarce Adjusted In The Tomb When One Who Died For Truth, Was Lain In An Adjoining Room

What Soft--cherubic Creatures-- These Gentlewomen Are-- One Would As Soon Assault A Plush-- Or Violate A Star

Life Is So Rotatory That The Wilderness Falls To Each, Sometime.

A Color Stands Abroad On Solitary Hills That Silence Cannot Overtake, But Human Nature Feels.

Success Is Counted Sweetest / By Those Who Ne'er Succeed.

Proud Of My Broken Heart Since Thou Didst Break It, Proud Of The Pain I Did Not Feel Till Thee, Proud Of My Night Since Thou With Moons Dost Slake It, Not To Partake Thy Passion, My Humility.

'arcturus' Is His Other Name- I'd Rather Call Him 'star.' It's Very Mean Of Science To Go And Interfere!

Ample Make This Bed. Make This Bed With Awe; In It Wait Till Judgment Break Excellent And Fair. Be Its Mattress Straight, Be Its Pillow Round; Let No Sunrise’ Yellow Noise Interrupt This Ground.

A Narrow Fellow In The Grass Occasionally Rides

I Dwell In Possibility A Fairer House Than Prose More Numerous Of Windows Superior — For Doors.

How Very Sad It Is To Have A Confiding Nature, One's Hopes And Feelings Are Quite At The Mercy Of All Who Come Along; And How Very Desirable To Be A Stolid Individual, Whose Hopes And Aspirations Are Safe In One's Waistcoat Pocket, And That A Pocket Indeed, And One Not To Be Picked!

Immortal Is An Ample Word When What We Need Is By, But When It Leaves Us For A Time, 'tis A Necessity.

Eden Is That Old-fashioned House We Dwell In Every Day Without Suspecting Our Abode Until We Drive Away.

Within Thy Grave! Oh No, But On Some Other Flight - Thou Only Camest To Mankind To Rend It With Good Night

These Are The Days When Birds Come Back, A Very Few, A Bird Or Two, To Take A Backward Look.

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