Think, In Mounting Higher, The Angels Would

I Love You For The Part Of Me That You Bring Out.

I Would Build A Cloudy House For My Thoughts To Live In; When For Earth Too Fancy-loose And Too Low For Heaven! Hush! I Talk My Dream Aloud - I Build It Bright To See, - I Build It On The Moonlit Cloud, To Which I Looked With Thee.

Sing, Seraph With The Glory! Heaven Is High. Sing, Poet With The Sorrow! Earth Is Low. The Universe's Inward Voices Cry "amen" To Either Song Of Joy And Woe. Sing, Seraph, Poet! Sing On Equally!

For Poets (bear The Word) Half-poets Even, Are Still Whole Democrats.

The Flower-girl's Prayer To Buy Roses And Pinks, Held Out In The Smoke, Like Stars By Day.