The People I Am Most Afraid Of

For I Have Had Too Much Of Apple-picking:i Am Overtired Of The Great Harvest I Myself Desired.

The Trees That Have It In Their Pent-up Buds To Darken Nature And Be Summer Woods.

In Spring More Mortal Singers Than Belong To Any One Place Cover Us With Song. Thrush, Bluebird, Blackbird, Sparrow, And Robin Throng.

If One By One We Counted People Out

A Champion Of The Workingman Has Never Been Known To Die Of Overwork.