Behold Me! I Am Worthy Of Thy

In Your Patience Ye Are Strong.

Deep Violets, You Liken To The Kindest Eyes That Look On You, Without A Thought Disloyal.

And Friends, Dear Friends,--when It Shall Be That This Low Breath Is Gone From Me, And Gone My Bier Ye Come To Weep, Let One, Most Loving Of You All, Say, "not A Tear Must O'er Her Fall; He Giveth His Beloved Sleep.

If We Tried To Sink The Past Beneath Our Feet, Be Sure The Future Would Not Stand.

O Rose, Who Dares To Name Thee? No Longer Roseate Now, Nor Soft, Nor Sweet, But Pale, And Hard, And Dry, As Stubblewheat, Kept Seven Years In A Drawer, Thy Titles Shame Thee.