I cannot live with you, It would be life, And life is over there Behind the shelf

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.

One need not be a chamber to be haunted; One need not be a house; The brain has corridors surpassing Material place.

A power of Butterfly must be - The Aptitude to fly Meadows of Majesty concedes And easy Sweeps of Sky -

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

When we think of his lone effort to live and its bleak reward, the mind turns to the myth "for His mercy endureth forever," with confiding revulsion.

The friend anguish reveals is the slowest forgot.