I Am Nobody! Who Are You? Are

Knew I How To Pray, To Intercede For Your [broken] Foot Were Intuitive - But I Am But A Pagan.

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

When Everything That Ticked Has Stopped, And Space Stares, All Around, Or Grisly Frosts, First Autumn Morns, Repeal The Beating Ground.

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

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