Much Madness Is Divinest Sense, To A

Anger As Soon As Fed Is Dead- 'tis Starving Makes It Fat.

I Measure Every Grief I Meet With Narrow, Probing Eyes - I Wonder If It Weighs Like Mine - Or Has An Easier Size.

In The Name Of The Bee And Of The Butterfly And Of The Breeze, Amen!

A Power Of Butterfly Must Be - The Aptitude To Fly Meadows Of Majesty Concedes And Easy Sweeps Of Sky -

Eden Is That Old-fashioned House We Dwell In Every Day Without Suspecting Our Abode Until We Drive Away.