Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.

Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.

PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there's a word to lift your hat to... to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that's the genius behind poetry.

To see her is a picture- To hear her is a tune- To know her an Intemperance As innocent as June- To know her not-Affliction- To own her for a Friend A warmth as near as if the the Sun Were shining in your Hand.

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

Noon - is the Hinge of Day-.

There is always one thing to be grateful for - that one is one's self and not somebody else.