Beauty Crowds Me Till I Die.

Love Can Do All But Raise The Dead I Doubt If Even That From Such A Giant Were Withheld Were Flesh Equivalent But Love Is Tired And Must Sleep, And Hungry And Must Graze And So Abets The Shining Fleet Till It Is Out Of Gaze.

Forever Is Composed Of Nows— 'tis Not A Different Time— Except For Infiniteness— And Latitude Of Home

Sunrise: Day's Great Progenitor.

Not Knowing When The Dawn Will Come I Open Every Door.

Spring Is The Period Express From God.