We Meet No Stranger, But Ourself.

To Be Alive──is Power.

I Could Not Prove The Years Had Feet-/yet Confident They Run.

He Ate And Drank The Precious Words, His Spirit Grew Robust; He Knew No More That He Was Poor, Nor That His Frame Was Dust.

Because I Could Not Stop For Death, He Kindly Stopped For Me; The Carriage Held But Just Ourselves And Immortality. We Slowly Drove, He Knew No Haste, And I Had Put Away My Labour, And My Leisure Too, For His Civility. We Passed The School Where Children Played, Their Lessons Scarcely Done; We Passed The Fields Of Gazing Grain, We Passed The Setting Sun. We Paused Before A House That Seemed A Swelling Of The Ground; The Roof Was Scarcely Visible, The Cornice But A Mound. Since Then 'tis Centuries; But Each Feels Shorter Than The Day I First Surmised The Horses' Heads Were Toward Eternity.

Superiority To Fate Is Difficult To Gain 'tis Not Conferred Of Any But Possible To Earn.