the prowling Bee

The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themselves— The Science of the Grave No Man can understa...

'Tis true—They shut me in the Cold— But then—Themselves were warm And could not know the feeling 'twas—               ...

Endow the Living — with the Tears — You squander on the Dead, And They were Men and Women — now, Around Your Fireside ...

I started Early – Took my Dog – And visited the Sea – The Mermaids in the Basement Came out to look at me – And Frigates – in the Upper...

He parts Himself — like Leaves — And then — He closes up — Then stands upon the Bonnet Of Any Buttercup — And then H...