• Glass was the Street — in tinsel Peril

    Tree and Traveller stood —

    Filled was the Air with merry venture

    Hearty with Boys the Road —


    Shot the lithe Sleds like shod vibrations

    Emphasized and gone

    It is the Past's supreme italic

    Makes this Present mean —

  • Peril as a Possesssion

    'Tis Good to hear

    Danger disintegrates Satiety

    There's Basis there —

    Begets an awe

    That searches Human Nature's creases

    As clean as Fire.