Hope Is A Thing With

I'll Tell You How The Sun Rose.

I Measure Every Grief I Meet With Narrow, Probing Eyes - I Wonder If It Weighs Like Mine - Or Has An Easier Size.

These Are The Days When Birds Come Back, A Very Few, A Bird Or Two, To Take A Backward Look.

Will You Tell Me My Fault, Frankly As To Yourself, For I Had Rather Wince, Than Die. Men Do Not Call The Surgeon To Commend The Bone, But To Set It, Sir.

Immortal Is An Ample Word When What We Need Is By, But When It Leaves Us For A Time, 'tis A Necessity.