I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.

Only I discern Infinite passion, and the pain Of finite hearts that yearn.

O woman-country! wooed not wed, Loved all the more by earth's male-lands, Laid to their hearts instead.

God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance, Rests never on the track until it reach Delinquency.

If thou tastest a crust of bread, thou tastest all the stars and all the heavens.

How well I know what I mean to do When the long dark Autumn evenings come, And where, my soul, is thy pleasant hue? With the music of all thy voices, dumb In life’s November too! I shall be found by the fire, suppose, O’er a great wise book as beseemeth age, While the shutters flap as the cross-wind blows, And I turn the page, and I turn the page, Not verse now, only prose!

The world and life's too big to pass for a dream