Still We Say As We Go,-"strange To

It Is Beautiful, The World, And Life Itself. I Am Glad I Have Lived.

At Length Their Long Kiss Severed, With Sweet Smart:and As The Last Slow Sudden Drops Are Shedfrom Sparkling Eaves When All The Storm Has Fled,so Singly Flagged The Pulses Of Each Heart.

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

Tis Visible Silence, Still As The Hour-glass.

I Plucked A Honeysuckle Where The Hedge On High Is Quick With Thorn, And Climbing For The Prize, Was Torn, And Fouled My Feet In Quag-water; And By The Thorns And By The Wind The Blossom That I Took Was Thinn'd, And Yet I Found It Sweet And Fair.