I Had A Little Sorrow, Born Of

There Are A Hundred Places Where I Fear To Go, --so With His Memory They Brim! And Entering With Relief Some Quiet Place Where Never Fell His Foot Or Shone His Face I Say, 'there Is No Memory Of Him Here!' And So Stand Stricken, So Remembering Him!

I Am Not Resigned To The Shutting Away Of Loving Hearts In The Hard Ground.

I Do Not Think There Is A Woman In Whom The Roots Of Passion Shoot Deeper Than In Me.

But She Was Not Made For Any Man, And She Will Never Be All Mine.

The Longest Absence Is Less Perilous To Love Than The Terrible Trials Of Incessant Proximity.