To Live Is So Startling It Leaves

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

Lest I Should Be Old-fashioned, I'll Put A Trinket On.

He Fumbles At Your Spirit As Players At The Keys Before They Drop Full Music On; He Stuns You By Degrees. Prepares Your Brittle Substance For The Ethereal Blow By Fainter Hammers, Further Heard, Then Nearer, Then So Slow Your Breath Has Time To Straighten Your Brain To Bubble Cool,- Deals One Imperial Thunderbolt That Scalps Your Naked Soul.

Saying Nothing... Sometimes Says The Most.

Hope Is The Thing With Feathers That Perches In The Soul.