To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

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.

God's little Blond Blessing we have long deemed you, and hope his so-called Will will not compel him to revoke you.

Life is a spell so exquisite that everything conspires to break it.

To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—

Good times are always mutual; that is what makes good times.

A soft Sea washed around the House A Sea of Summer Air And rose and fell the magic Planks That sailed without a care — For Captain was the Butterfly For Helmsman was the Bee And an entire universe For the delighted crew.