Your Eyes Smile Peace.

Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back Was Yellow Like Ripe Corn.

Your Eyes Smile Peace.

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

Beauty Like Hers Is Genius.

If God In His Wisdom Have Brought Closethe Day When I Must Die,that Day By Water Or Fire Or Airmy Feet Shall Fall In The Destined Snarewherever My Road May Lie.