All Poetry Is Putting The Infinite Within

Make Us Happy And You Make Us Good.

That Low Man Seeks A Little Thing To Do, Sees It And Does It: This High Man, With A Great Thing To Pursue, Dies Ere He Knows It. That Low Man Goes On Adding One To One, His Hundred's Soon Hit: This High Man, Aiming At A Million, Misses An Unit. That, Has The World Here-should He Need The Next, Let The World Mind Him! This, Throws Himself On God, And Unperplext Seeking Shall Find Him.

What I Aspired To Be And Was Not, Comforts Me.

You Should Not Take A Fellow Eight Years Old And Make Him Swear To Never Kiss The Girls.

Outside Are The Storms And Strangers: We — Oh, Close, Safe, Warm Sleep I And She, — I And She!