I held a jewel in my fingers And went to sleep. The day was warm, and winds were prosy; I said: "'T will keep." I woke and chid my honest fingers,— The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own.

The Truth never flaunted a sign.

I tasted life.

The Things that never can come back, are several - Childhood - some forms of Hope - the Dead.

My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun - In Corners - till a Day The Owner passed - identified - And carried Me away -

They address an Eclipse every morning, whom they call their "Father."

Memory is a strange Bell—Jubilee, and Knell.