A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not

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

My Faith Is Larger Than The Hills— So When The Hills Decay— My Faith Must Take The Purple Wheel To Show The Sun The Way— 'tis First He Steps Upon The Vane— And Then — Upon The Hill— And Then Abroad The World He Go To Do His Golden Will— And If His Yellow Feet Should Miss— The Bird Would Not Arise— The Flowers Would Slumber On Their Stems— No Bells Have Paradise— How Dare I, Therefore, Stint A Faith On Which So Vast Depends— Lest Firmament Should Fail For Me— The Rivet In The Bands

The Revery Alone Will Do If Bees Are Few.

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

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