Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.

I felt it shelter to speak to you.

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

My friends are my estate. Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them. They tell me those who were poor early have different views of gold. I don't know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else He would give us no friends, lest we forget Him.

Some keep the Sabbath going to church, I keep it staying at home, with a bobolink for a chorister, and an orchard for a dome.

I see thee better in the dark I do not need a light.

I felt a Cleaving in my Mind- As if my Brain had split- I tried to match it- Seam by Seam- But could not make it fit.