Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

This Is The Hour Of Lead- Remembered, If Outlived, As Freezing Persons, Recollect The Snow- First-chill-then Stupor- Then The Letting Go---

Memory Is A Strange Bell—jubilee, And Knell.

Not If Their Party Were Waiting, Not If To Talk With Me Were To Them Now, Homesickness After Eternity.

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

I Like A Look Of Agony, Because I Know It's True - Men Do Not Sham Convulsion, Nor Simulate, A Throe