Those Who Have Not Found The Heaven

A Dominie In Gray-- Put Gently Up The Evening Bars-- And Led The Flock Away

The Soul Should Always Stand Ajar.

To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry, Though Never In A Book It Lie— True Poems Flee—

Judge Tenderly Of Me.

So Proud She Was To Die It Made Us All Ashamed That What We Cherished, So Unknown To Her Desire Seemed. So Satisfied To Go Where None Of Us Should Be, Immediately, That Anguish Stooped Almost To Jealousy.