My Friends Should Drink A Dozen Of

You Are Always New To Me.

No Stir Of Air Was There, Not So Much Life As On A Summer's Day Robs Not One Light Seed From The Feather'd Grass, But Where The Dead Leaf Fell, There Did It Rest.

I Came To Feel How Far Above All Fancy, Pride, And Fickle Maidenhood, All Earthly Pleasure, All Imagined Good, Was The Warm Tremble Of A Devout Kiss.

When I Have Fears That I May Ceace To Be, Before My Pen Has Gleaned My Teaming Brain".

But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The Brier, For Winds To Kiss And Grateful Bees To Feed.