Nor Dim Nor Red, Like God's Own

Come, Come Thou Bleak December Wind, And Blow The Dry Leaves From The Tree! Flash, Like A Love-thought, Thro'me, Death And Take A Life That Wearies Me.

I Have Found Words [in The Bible] For My Inmost Thoughts, Songs For My Joy, Utterances For My Hidden Griefs, And Pleadings For My Shame And My Feebleness.

Show Me One Couple Unhappy Merely On Account Of Their Limited Circumstances, And I Will Show You Ten Who Are Wretched From Other Causes.

The Fancy Is Indeed No Other Than A Mode Of Memory Emancipated From The Order Of Time And Space.

What If You Slept? And What If, In Your Sleep, You Went To Heaven And There Plucked A Strange And Beautiful Flower? And What If,when You Awoke,you Had The Flower In Your Hand? Ah, What Then?