By graves for burial rite.

I wonder now how many moons
In just such white have died;
I wonder how the stars divide
Among themselves their share of light;
And if there were great years of night
Before the earth saw noons.

I wonder why each moon, each sun,
Which ever has been or shall be,
In this day's sun and moon I see;
I think perhaps all of the old
Is hidden in each new day's hold;
So the first day is not yet done!

And then I think--our dust is spent
Before the balances are swung;
Shall we be loneliest among
God's living creatures? Shall we dare
To speak in this eternal air
The only discontent?

Then she shut the book resolutely, and sat up straight with a little
laugh, saying to herself, "This is a pretty beginning for a business
journey!"

Far better than you knew, sweet Draxy! The great successes of life are
never made by the men and women who have no poetic comprehension in their
souls.