God Gave A Loaf To

Hope . . . Never Stops At All.

This Is The Hour Of Lead- Remembered, If Outlived, As Freezing Persons, Recollect The Snow- First-chill-then Stupor- Then The Letting Go---

The Heart Asks Pleasure First, And Then, Excuse From Pain; And Then, Those Little Anodynes That Deaden Suffering; And Then, To Go To Sleep; And Then, If It Should Be The Will Of Its Inquisitor, The Liberty To Die.

No Ladder Needs The Bird But Skies To Situate Its Wings, Nor Any Leaders Grim Baton Arraigns It As It Sings.

Friends Are Nations In Themselves.