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Of so divine a Loss We enter but the Gain, Indemnity for Loneliness That such a Bliss has been.

Of Paul and Silas it is said There were in Prison laid But when they went to take them out They were not there instead. Security the same insures To our assaulted Minds — The staple must be optional That…

Of Paradise’ existence All we know Is the uncertain certainty — But its vicinity infer, By its Bisecting Messenger —

Of Nature I shall have enough When I have entered these Entitled to a Bumble bee’s Familiarities.

Of Life to own — From Life to draw — But never tough the reservoir —

Of God we ask one favor, That we may be forgiven — For what, he is presumed to know — The Crime, from us, is hidden — Immured the whole of Life Within a magic Prison We reprimand the Happiness…

Of Glory not a Beam is left But her Eternal House — The Asterisk is for the Dead, The Living, for the Stars —

Of Death I try to think like this — The Well in which they lay us Is but the Likeness of the Brook That menaced not to slay us, But to invite by that Dismay Which is the Zest of…

Obtaining but our own Extent In whatsoever Realm — ‘Twas Christ’s own personal Expanse That bore him from the Tomb —

Now I lay thee down to Sleep — I pray the Lord thy Dust to keep — And if thou live before thou wake — I pray the Lord thy Soul to make —