Letter Writing Is The Only

And Life 's Enchanted Cup But Sparkles Near The Brim.

But Stories Somehow Lengthen When Begun.

Are Not The Mountains, Waves, And Skies As Much A Part Of Me, As I Of Them?

There Is No Traitor Like Him Whose Domestic Treason Plants The Poniard Within The Breast That Trusted To His Truth

My Hair Is Grey, But Not With Years, Nor Grew It White In A Single Night, As Men's Have Grown From Sudden Fears.