If Ever I Said In Grief Or

Lord, I Do Fear Thou'st Made The World Too Beautiful This Year My Soul Is All But Out Of Me-let Fall No Burning Leaf; Prithee, Let No Bird Call.

I Know What My Heart Is Like Since Your Love Died: It Is Like A Hollow Ledge Holding A Little Pool Left There By The Tide, A Little Tepid Pool, Drying Inward From The Edge.

She Learned Her Hands In A Fairy-tale, And Her Mouth On A Valentine.

What Should I Be But Just What I Am?

For The Body At Best Is A Bundle Of Aches, Longing For Rest; It Cries When It Wakes.