I Could Not Prove The Years Had

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.

To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry, Though Never In A Book It Lie— True Poems Flee—

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

Forever Is Made Up Of Nows.

Somewhere In My Soul A Thought Went Up In My Mind Today That I Have Had Before, But Did Not Finish, Some Way Back, I Could Not Fix The Year. Nor Where It Went, Nor Why It Came The Second Time To Me, Nor Definetly What It Was, Have I The Art To Say. But Somewhere In My Soul, I Know I've Met The Thing Before; It Just Reminded Me-' Twas All'-and Came My Way No More.