At dawn, a railwaywoman On a country platform whirls on the end of a chain An irrelevant key, while a young guard makes to wipe A crumb from her lapel; and see, she smiles A permissory smile you take in from your corner seat: A cameo of unrehearsed perfection.

Is fine - as long as no one comes And asks us what we do there... We'd have to say, Without our toil, Just who would know it grew there?

Following daily such a dread- ful trade to earn a living, With every second on that cliff So cruel and unforgiving,

I had a very pleasant evening, however, though you will probably find out that there was no particular reason for it; but I do not think it worth while to wait…

I cannot but think that he who finds a certain proportion of pain and evil inseparably woven up in the life of the very worms, will bear his own share with mor…

O time, arrest your flight! and you, propitious hours, arrest your course! Let us savor the fleeting delights of our most beautiful days!