Love me sweet With all thou art Feeling, thinking, seeing; Love me in the Lightest part, Love me in full Being.

A grave, on which to rest from singing?

The flower-girl's prayer to buy roses and pinks, held out in the smoke, like stars by day.

New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!

XI I sang his name instead of song; Over and over I sang his name: Backward and forward I sang it along, With my sweetest notes, it was still the same! I sang it low, that the slave-girls near Might never guess, from what they could hear, That all the song was a name.

We all have known good critics, who have stamped out poet's hopes; Good statesmen, who pulled ruin on the state; Good patriots, who, for a theory, risked a cause; Good kings, who disemboweled for a tax; Good Popes, who brought all good to jeopardy; Good Christians, who sat still in easy-chairs; And damned the general world for standing up. Now, may the good God pardon all good men!

Most illogical Irrational nature of our womanhood, That blushes one way, feels another way, And prays, perhaps another!