Find ecstasy in life the mere sense of living is joy enough.

I hide myself within my flower, / That fading from your Vase, / You, unsuspecting, feel for me— / Almost a loneliness.

Good to hide, and hear 'em hunt! / Better, to be found, / If one care to, that is, / The Fox fits the Hound— / Good to know, and not tell, / Best, to know and tell, / Can one find the rare Ear / Not too dull—

Safe despair it is that raves / Agony is frugal. / Puts itself severe away / For its own perusal.

March is the month of expectation the things we do not know the Persons of Prognostication Are coming now. We try to sham becoming firmness, but pompous joy Betrays us, as his first betrothal, betrays a boy.

Yet never met this fellow, / Attended or alone, / Without a tighter breathing, / And zero at the bone.

There is a June when Corn is cut / And Roses in the Seed — / A Summer briefer than the first / But tenderer indeed

Besides the autumn poets sing, a few prosaic days, a little this side of the snow, and that side of the haze.

If I can stop one heart from breaking, / I shall not live in vain. / If I can ease one life the aching, / Or cool one pain, / Or help one fainting robin / Unto his nest again, / I shall not live in vain.

The feet of people walking home / With gayer sandals go— / The Crocus— til she rises / The Vassal of the snow— / The lips at Hallelujah / Long years of practice bore / Til bye and bye these Bargemen / Walked singing on the shore.