The Hearts That Never Lean Must Fall.

After A Hundred Years Nobody Knows The Place, Agony, That Enacted There, Motionless As Peace.

One Need Not Be A Chamber To Be Haunted.

The Dandelion's Pallid Tube Astonishes The Grass, And Winter Instantly Becomes An Infinite Alas.

My Only Sketch, Profile, Of Heaven Is A Large Blue Sky, And Larger Than The Biggest I Have Seen In June - And In It Are My Friends - Every One Of Them.

But A Book Is Only The Heart's Portrait- Every Page A Pulse.