And Lips Say “god Be Pitiful,” Who

In This Abundant Earth No Doubt Is Little Room For Things Worn Out: Disdain Them, Break Them, Throw Them By! And If Before The Days Grew Rough We Once Were Lov'd, Us'd -- Well Enough, I Think, We've Far'd, My Heart And I.

Whoso Loves, Believes In The Impossible

The Large White Owl That With Eye Is Blind, That Hath Sate For Years In The Old Tree Hollow, Is Carried Away In A Gust Of Wind.

Every Wish Is Like A Prayer--with God.

When We First Met And Loved, I Did Not Build Upon The Event With Marble. . . .