The dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul--BOOKS.

Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

She died--this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.

I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.

That no Flake of [snow] fall on you or them - is a wish that would be a Prayer, were Emily not a Pagan.

I fear a Man of frugal speech - I fear a Silent Man - Haranguer - I can overtake - Or Babbler - entertain - But He who weigheth - While the Rest - Expend their furthest pound - Of this Man - I am wary - I fear that He is Grand -

At least to pray is left - is left Oh Jesus - in the Air - I know not which thy chamber is - I'm knocking everywhere.