Tis Not That Dieing Hurts Us So-

They Might Not Need Me; But They Might. I'll Let My Head Be Just In Sight; A Smile As Small As Mine Might Be Precisely Their Necessity.

His Labor Is A Chant - His Idleness -a Tune - Oh, For A Bee's Experience Of Clovers, And Of Noon!

Then, As Horizons Step, Or Noons Report Away,without The Formula Of Sound, It Passes, And We Stay:a Quality Of Loss Affecting Our Content.

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

An Ear Can Break A Human Heart As Quickly As A Spear, We Wish The Ear Had Not A Heart So Dangerously Near.