The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

Young Playmates Of The Rose And Daffodil, Be Careful Ere Ye Enter In, To Fill Your Baskets High With Fennel Green, And Balm, And Golden Pines Savory Latter-mint, And Columbines.

There Is A Budding Tomorrow In Midnight.

Turn The Key Deftly In The Oiled Wards, And Seal The Hushed Casket Of My Soul.

O Aching Time! O Moments Big As Years!

Beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty,-that Is All Ye Know On Earth, And All Ye Need To Know.