A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A

All Writing Is A Form Of Prayer.

Sudden A Thought Came Like A Full-blown Rose, Flushing His Brow.

The Feel Of Not To Feel It, When There Is None To Heal It Nor Numbed Sense To Steel It.

Fade Far Away, Dissolve, And Quite Forget.

To Sorrow I Bade Good-morrow, And Thought To Leave Her Far Away Behind; But Cheerly, Cheerly, She Loves Me Dearly: She Is So Constant To Me, And So Kind.