Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead-

There Is No Frigate Like A Book To Take Us Lands Away Nor Any Coursers Like A Page Of Prancing Poetry.

Judge Tenderly Of Me.

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

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

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