Unable are the Loved to die For Love is Immortality
But were it told to me — Today — That I might have the sky For mine — I tell you that my Heart Would split, for size of me —
Who has not found the Heaven — below — Will fail of it above —
They say that God is everywhere, and yet we always think of Him as somewhat of a recluse…
I’m Nobody! Who are you?
Enough is so vast a sweetness, I suppose it never occurs, only pathetic counterfeits.
Witchcraft was hung, in History, But History and I Find all the Witchcraft that we need Around us, every Day —
While we were fearing it, it came — But came with less of fear Because that fearing it so long Had almost made it fair —
Where Thou art — that — is Home —
We outgrow love, like other things And put it in the drawer — Till it an Antique fashion shows — Like Costumes Grandsires wore.
Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it.
To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And revery. The revery alone will do, If bees are few.