Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chilliest land And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

Drunkards of summer are quite as frequent as Drunkards of wine.

In the name of the bee And of the butterfly And of the breeze, amen!

I don't profess to be profound; but I do lay claim to common sense.

'Arcturus' is his other name- I'd rather call him 'Star.' It's very mean of Science To go and interfere!

I HIDE myself within my flower That wearing on your breast, You, unsuspecting, wear me too - And angels know the rest. I hide myself within my flower, That, fading from your vase, You, unsuspecting, feel for me Almost a loneliness.

Forever is made up of nows.