“Look back on Time, with kindly eyes -He doubtless did his best -How softly sinks that trembling sunIn Human Nature's West -”

“A precious, mouldering pleasure ’tis To meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege, I think, His venerable hand to take, And warming in our own, A passage back, or two, to make To times when he was young. His quaint opinions to inspect, His knowledge to unfold On what concerns our mutual mind, The literature of old”

“I had been hungry all the years-My noon had come, to dine-I, trembling, drew the table nearAnd touched the curious wine. 'Twas this on tables I had seenWhen turning, hungry, lone,I looked in windows, for the wealthI could not hope to own. I did not know the ample bread,'Twas so unlike the crumbThe birds and I had often sharedIn Nature's diningroom. The plenty hurt me, 'twas so new,--Myself felt ill and odd,As berry of a mountain bushTransplanted to the road. Nor was I hungry; so I foundThat hunger was a wayOf persons outside windows,The entering takes away.”

“How strange that nature does not knock, and yet does not intrude!”

“It was a quiet way -He asked if I was his -I made no answer of the tongueBut answer of the eyes -And then He bore me onBefore this mortal noiseWith swiftness, as of Chariotsand distance, as of Wheels.This World did drop awayAs acres from the feetof one that leaneth from BalloonUpon an Ether Street.The Gulf behind was not,The Continents were new -Eternity was due.No Seasons were to us -It was not Night nor Morn -But Sunrise stopped upon the placeAnd Fastened in Dawn.”

“Love is its own rescue; for we, at our supremest, are but its trembling emblems.”

“They say that “time assuages,”— Time never did assuage; An actual suffering strengthens, As sinews do, with age. Time is a test of trouble, But not a remedy. If such it prove, it prove too There was no malady.”