Love Is Its Own Rescue; For We,

Just Girt Me For The Onset With Eternity, When Breath Blew Back, And On The Other Side I Heard Recede The Disappointed Tide!

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

How Happy Is The Little Stone That Rambles In The Road Alone, And Doesn't Care About Careers, And Exigencies Never Fears; Whose Coat Of Elemental Brown A Passing Universe Put On; And Independent As The Sun, Associates Or Glows Alone, Fulfilling Absolute Decree In Casual Simplicity.

Love Is Anterior To Life, Posterior To Death, Initial Of Creation, And The Exponent Of Breath.

I Started Early, Took My Dog, And Visited The Sea; The Mermaids In The Basement Came Out To Look At Me