AMPLE make this bed. Make this bed with awe; In it wait till judgment break Excellent and fair. Be its mattress straight, Be its pillow round; Let no sunrise’ yellow noise Interrupt this ground.

Judge tenderly of me.

How softly summer shuts, without the creaking of a door.

Forever is comprised of nows.

Enough is so vast a sweetness I suppose it never occurs.

I tasted life.

We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.