To Shut Your Eyes Is To Travel.

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several - Childhood - Some Forms Of Hope - The Dead.

The Spreading Wide My Narrow Hands / To Gather Paradise-.

Memory Is A Strange Bell—jubilee, And Knell.

I Started Early, Took My Dog, And Visited The Sea; The Mermaids In The Basement Came Out To Look At Me

God, Keep Me From What They Call 'households,'