Luck Is Not Chance, It's Toil; Fortune's

I Held A Jewel In My Fingers And Went To Sleep. The Day Was Warm, And Winds Were Prosy; I Said: "'t Will Keep." I Woke And Chid My Honest Fingers,— The Gem Was Gone; And Now An Amethyst Remembrance Is All I Own.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society, Then Shuts The Door; On Her Divine Majority Obtrude No More.

His Labor Is A Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, For A Bee's Experience Of Clovers, And Of Noon!

Those Who Lift Their Hats Shall See Nature As Devout Do God.

Friends Are Nations In Themselves.