I Make Bean Stalks, I'm A Builder,

I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart, And Not The Full Four Seasons Of The Year.

If I Could Have Two Things In One: The Peace Of The Grave, And The Light Of The Sun.

Guess I'll Weep Awhile. Guess I Won't, I Mean.

For The Body At Best Is A Bundle Of Aches, Longing For Rest; It Cries When It Wakes.

To Be Grown Up Is To Sit At The Table With People Who Have Died, Who Neither Listen Nor Speak.