Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift

To Be Alive Is Power; Existence In Itself; Without A Further Function; Omnipotence.

I Miss The Grasshoppers Much, But Suppose It Is All For The Best. I Should Become Too Much Attached To A Trotting World.

Hope Is A Thing With Feathers

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

Besides The Autumn Poets Sing, A Few Prosaic Days, A Little This Side Of The Snow, And That Side Of The Haze..., Grant Me, Oh Lord, A Sunny Mind- Thy Windy Will To Bear!