O Pusillanimous Heart, Be Comforted And, Like

It Was Not The Apple On The Tree But The Pair On The Ground That Caused The Trouble In The Garden Of Eden.

Girls Blush, Sometimes, Because They Are Alive, Half Wishing They Were Dead To Save The Shame. The Sudden Blush Devours Them, Neck And Brow; They Have Drawn Too Near The Fire Of Life, Like Gnats, And Flare Up Bodily, Wings And All. What Then? Who's Sorry For A Gnat Or Girl?

New Angel Mine, Unhoped For In The World!

And There My Little Doves Did Sit With Feathers Softly Brown And Glittering Eyes That Showed Their Right To General Nature's Deep Delight.

Souls Are Gregarious In A Sense, But No Soul Touches Another, As A General Rule.