I Work To Drive The Awe Away,

There Is No Frigate Like A Book To Take Us Lands Away Nor Any Coursers Like A Page Of Prancing Poetry.

... I Have No Letter From The Dead, Yet Daily Love Them More.

Answer July- Where Is The Bee- Where Is The Blush- Where Is The Hay? Ah, Said July- Where Is The Seed- Where Is The Bud- Where Is The May- Answer Thee-me-

How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking Of A Door.

Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die.