I make bean stalks, I'm A builder, like yourself.

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.

And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Will cave in on him by and by.

She learned her hands in a fairy-tale, And her mouth on a valentine.

Childhood Is the Kingdom Where Nobody Dies.

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