So Mayst Thou Live, Dear!

Pity It Is To Slay The Meanest Thing.

With Fingers Weary And Worn, With Eyelids Heavy And Red, A Woman Sat In Unwomanly Rags, Plying Her Needle And Thread.

No Blessed Leisure For Love Or Hope, But Only Time For Grief.

I Love Thee - I Love Thee, 'tis All That I Can Say, It Is My Vision In The Night, My Dreaming In The Day.

I Saw Old Autumn In The Misty Morn Stand Shadowless Like Silence, Listening To Silence.