Under my head till morning; but the rain, Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh, Upon the glass and listen for reply.

Progress-progress is the dirtiest word in the language-who ever told us- And made us believe it-that to take a step forward was necessarily, was always A good idea?

So up I got in anger, And took a book I had, And put a ribbon on my hair To please a passing lad. And, "One thing there's no getting by -- I've been a wicked girl," said I; But if I can't be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!

... but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed.

My candle burns at both ends