O How Feeble Is Man's Power, That

Send Home My Long Strayed Eyes To Me, Which (oh) Too Long Have Dwelt On Thee.

And Now Good Morrow To Our Waking Souls, Which Watch Not One Another Out Of Fear; For Love, All Love Of Other Sights Controls, And Makes One Little Room, An Everywhere. Let Sea-discoverers To New Worlds Have Gone, Let Maps To Other, Worlds On Worlds Have Shown, Let Us Possess One World, Each Hath One, And Is One.

And Dare Love That, And Say So Too, And Forget The He And She.

Sleep Is Pain's Easiest Salve

As States Subsist In Part By Keeping Their Weaknesses From Being Known, So Is It The Quiet Of Families To Have Their Chancery And Their Parliament Within Doors, And To Compose And Determine All Emergent Differences There.