There, just below the moon's ascent,
Ethereal a figure went-
A silhouette, a dimly shade,
That moved towards him with clear intent.
...
I walked (eleven-ish or so)
A kid amid blue snow and slush,
When lo! that golden orb aglow
Ascending made the blue-air blush!
...
There are no Absolutes I see
Eternal Truths can hardly be
Nor can I think there is a Law
That governs heavy over me
...
I fell into a solemn sleep
Alone the other day
And waking found that I was reaped
...
I've never shunned a winter day
And feel I never will
But last year when I rode a sleigh
There came a bitter chill
...
A king-bird flew in Pompey's Hall
Pursued by others from the grove
With laurel sprig in hand it strove
To hard elude the brawl
...
The end of love is never well
The pain it brings what soul can tell
Still all will know its lovely sting
And for a time will with it dwell
...
When children die what grief is more
What sorrow measurable compares
So deep the pain that cuts us through
It changes everything we view
...
With wealth, the likes of Helen's Troy,
There are these few that think they're coy
They seem so modest- but I warn,
Their modesty is but a ploy
...
Does a pure heart a better poet make,
Whose inner frame is as by God begot-
Swaying, shaping what the writer would take,
And by this inspiration mold the plot?
...