I Have An Appetite For Silence.

Assent - And You Are Sane - Demur - And You're Straightaway Dangerous - And Handled With A Chain.

She Died--this Was The Way She Died; And When Her Breath Was Done, Took Up Her Simple Wardrobe And Started For The Sun. Her Little Figure At The Gate The Angels Must Have Spied, Since I Could Never Find Her Upon The Mortal Side.

Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.

Does Not Eternity Appear Dreadful To You. I Often Get To Thinking Of It And It Seems So Dark To Me That I Almost Wish There Was No Eternity. To Think That We Must Forever Live And Never Cease To Be. It Seems As If Death Would Be A Relief To So Endless A State Of Existence.

When I State Myself, As The Representative Of The Verse, It Does Not Mean Me, But A Supposed Person.