My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom

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

To Die Before One Fears To Die May Be A Boon.

To Make A Prairie It Takes A Clover And One Bee, -

Each That We Lose Takes A Part Of Us; A Crescent Still Abides, Which Like The Moon, Some Turbid Night, Is Summoned By The Tides.

Faith—is The Pierless Bridge Supporting What We See Unto The Scene That We Do Not— Too Slender For The Eye It Bears The Soul As Bold As It Were Rocked In Steel With Arms Of Steel At Either Side— It Joins—behind The Veil To What, Could We Presume The Bridge Would Cease To Be To Our Far, Vacillating Feet A First Necessity.