I Cannot See What Flowers Are At

Through The Dancing Poppies Stole A Breeze, Most Softly Lulling To My Soul.

Who Would Wish To Be Among The Commonplace Crowd Of The Little Famous - Who Are Each Individually Lost In A Throng Made Up Of Themselves?

Do You Not See How Necessary A World Of Pains And Troubles Is To School An Intelligence And Make It A Soul?

If I Should Die, I Have Left No Immortal Work Behind Me — Nothing To Make My Friends Proud Of My Memory — But I Have Loved The Principle Of Beauty In All Things, And If I Had Had Time I Would Have Made Myself Remembered.

You Are Always New. The Last Of Your Kisses Was Even The Sweetest; The Last Smile The Brightest; The Last Movement The Gracefullest.