Beautiful as a dandelion-blossom, golden in the green grass, This life can be. Common as a dandelion-blossom, beautiful in the clean grass, not beautiful Because common, beautiful because beautiful, Noble because common, because free.

I will come back to you, I swear I will; And you will know me still. I shall be only a little taller Than when I went.

There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

it may be said of me by Harper & Brothers, that although I reject their proposals, I welcome their advances.

A person who publishes a book appears willfully in public eye with his pants down.

We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out; Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre.

pity me that the heart is slow to learn what the swift mind beholds at every turn.