I Know Nothing In The World That

The Dearest Ones Of Time, The Strongest Friends Of The Soul--books.

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?

I Dwell In Possibility A Fairer House Than Prose More Numerous Of Windows Superior--for Doors Of Chambers As The Cedars Impregnable Of Eye And For An Everlasting Roof The Gambrels Of The Sky Of Visitors--the Fairest For Occupation--this The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands To Gather Paradise

Besides The Autumn Poets Sing, A Few Prosaic Days, A Little This Side Of The Snow, And That Side Of The Haze..., Grant Me, Oh Lord, A Sunny Mind- Thy Windy Will To Bear!

I Imagine Therefore I Belong And Am Free.