The world stands out on either side, No wider than the heart is wide.

Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand. Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere.

Father, I beg of Thee a little task To dignify my days, 'tis all I ask.

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied Who told me time would ease me of my pain! I miss him in the weeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide; The old snows melt from every mountain-side, And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane; But last year's bitter loving must remain Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide! 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!

There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough.

Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.