814 One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory.

239 “Heaven”—is what I cannot reach! The Apple on the Tree— Provided it do hopeless—hang— That—"He aven" is—to Me!

The earth has many keys, Where melody is not Is the unknown peninsula. Beauty is nature’s fact. But witness for her land,

889 Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep

672 The Future—never spoke— Nor will He—like the Dumb— Reveal by sign—a syllable Of His Profound To Come—

904 Had I not This, or This, I said, Appealing to Myself, In moment of prosperity— Inadequate—were Life—

The Sun kept setting—setting—stil… No Hue of Afternoon— Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon— The Dusk kept dropping—dropping—s…

For each ecstatic instant We must an anguish pay In keen and quivering ratio To the ectasty. For each beloved hour

“Sic transit gloria mundi,” “How doth the busy bee,” “Dum vivimus vivamus,” I stay mine enemy! Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”