I Do Not Feel I Could Give

That Short, Potential Stir That Each Can Make But Once, That Bustle So Illustrious Tis Almost Consequence, Is The Eclat Of Death.

I Am One Of The Lingering Bad Ones, And So Do I Slink Away, And Pause, And Ponder, And Ponder, And Pause, And Do Work Without Knowing Why - Not Surely For This Brief World, And More Sure It Is Not For Heaven - And I Ask What This Message Of Christ Means.

Nothing More Do I Ask Than To Share With You The Ecstasy And Sacrament Of My Life.

It Is Easy To Work When The Soul Is At Play.

The Spider As An Artist Has Never Been Employed- Though His Surpassing Merit Is Freely Certified.