Burning Hot Is The Ground, Liquid Gold

Tasteful Illumination Of The Night, Bright Scattered, Twinkling Star Of Spangled Earth.

Language Has Not The Power To Speak What Love Indites: The Soul Lies Buried In The Ink That Writes.

I Am: Yet What I Am None Cares Or Knows, My Friends Forsake Me Like A Memory Lost; I Am The Self-consumer Of My Woes, They Rise And Vanish In Oblivious Host, Like Shades In Love And Death's Oblivion Lost; And Yet I Am, And Live With Shadows Tost.

Crowded Places, I Shunned Them As Noises Too Rude / And Flew To The Silence Of Sweet Solitude.

And Fairy Month Of Waking Mirth From Whom Our Joys Ensue Thou Early Gladder Of The Earth Thrice Welcome Here Anew With Thee The Bud Unfolds To Leaves The Grass Greens On The Lea And Flowers Their Tender Boon Receives To Bloom And Smile With Thee.