She Has Seen The Mystery Hid Under

You're Something Between A Dream And A Miracle.

Who Can Fear Too Many Stars, Though Each In Heaven Shall Roll- Too Many Flowers, Though Each Shall Crown The Year? Say Thou Dost Love Me, Love Me, Love Me-toll The Silver Iterance!-only Minding, Dear, To Love Me Also In Silence, With Thy Soul.

First Time He Kissed Me, He But Only Kissed The Fingers Of This Hand Wherewith I Write; And, Ever Since, It Grew More Clean And White.

It Is Not Merely The Likeness Which Is Precious... But The Association And The Sense Of Nearness Involved In The Thing... The Fact Of The Very Shadow Of The Person Lying There Fixed Forever! It Is The Very Sanctification Of Portraits I Think - And It Is Not At All Monstrous In Me To Say That I Would Rather Have Such A Memorial Of One I Dearly Loved, Than The Noblest Artist's Work Ever Produced.

This Race Is Never Grateful: From The First, One Fills Their Cup At Supper With Pure Wine, Which Back They Give At Cross-time On A Sponge, In Bitter Vinegar.