Time Is Short And Full, Like An

You Cannot Fold A Flood And Put It In A Drawer, Because The Winds Would Find It Out And Tell Your Cedar Floor.

The Abdication Of Belief Makes The Behavior Small- Better An Ignis Fatuus Than No Illume At All.

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.

My River Runs To Thee: Blue Sea, Wilt Welcome Me? My River Waits Reply. Oh Sea, Look Graciously! I ’ll Fetch Thee Brooks From Spotted Nooks,— Say, Sea, Take Me!

Assent - And You Are Sane - Demur - And You're Straightaway Dangerous - And Handled With A Chain.