Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord, A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt, Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see and remark, and say Whose?
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
Commemorating the women who fought for the vote; what next for the Democratic Party in the US?
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Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.