I Could Not Stop For Death And

A Death-blow Is A Life-blow To Some Who, Till They Died, Did Not Alive Become; Who, Had They Lived, Had Died, But When They Died, Vitality Begun.

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

How Softly Summer Shuts, Without The Creaking Of A Door.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.

If Aims Impel These Astral Ones The Ones Allowed To Know Know That Which Makes Them As Forgot As Dawn Forgets Them Now