This So Much Joy! This So Much

The Bustle In A House The Morning After Death Is Solemnest Of Industries Enacted Upon Earth,-- The Sweeping Up The Heart, And Putting Love Away We Shall Not Want To Use Again Until Eternity

Other Courtesies Have Been - Other Courtesy May Be - We Commend Ourselves To Thee Paragon Of Chivalry.

The Heart Asks Pleasure--first-- And Then--excuse From Pain

At Least To Pray Is Left - Is Left Oh Jesus - In The Air - I Know Not Which Thy Chamber Is - I'm Knocking Everywhere.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul, And Sings The Tune Without The Words, And Never Stops At All, And Sweetest In The Gale Is Heard; And Sore Must Be The Storm That Could Abash The Little Bird That Kept So Many Warm. I've Heard It In The Chilliest Land And On The Strangest Sea; Yet, Never, In Extremity, It Asked A Crumb Of Me.