Hush, call no echo up in further proof Of desolation! there's a voice within That weeps . . . as thou must sing . . . alone, aloof.

Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor, Most gracious singer of high poems! where The dancers will break footing, from the care Of watching up thy pregnant…

Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand Henceforward in thy shadow.

'Guess now who holds thee?'-'Death,' I said. But there The silver answer rang-'Not Death, but Love.'

Matthew Leiah Keller sat beneath a watershed tree and brooded. Other children played all around him, but they ignored Matt. So did two teachers on monitor duty…

The burden of the incommunicable.

I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless.