I Hope You Love Birds Too. It

Afraid? Of Whom Am I Afraid? Not Death. For Who Is He?

The Sun Just Touched The Morning; The Morning, Happy Thing, Supposed That He Had Come To Dwell, And Life Would Be All Spring.

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar.

Ample Make This Bed. Make This Bed With Awe; In It Wait Till Judgment Break Excellent And Fair. Be Its Mattress Straight, Be Its Pillow Round; Let No Sunrise’ Yellow Noise Interrupt This Ground.