The Past Is Gained, Secure, And On

Earth Changes, But Thy Soul And God Stand Sure.

Who Hears Music Feels His Solitude Peopled At Once.

Sappho Survives, Because We Sing Her Songs; And Eschylus, Because We Read His Plays!

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

Oh, Good Gigantic Smile O' The Brown Old Earth, This Autumn Morning! How He Sets His Bones To Bask I' The Sun, And Thrusts Out Knees And Feet. From The Ripple To Run Over In Its Mirth