I Had Drawn Away Into The Salt,

I Will Be Free, No Lover's Kiss To Bind Me To Earth, No Bliss Of Love To Counteract Actual Bliss.

Remember The Golden Apple-trees; O, Do Not Pity Them, As You Watch Them Drop One By One, For They Fall Exhausted, Numb, Blind But In Certain Ecstasy, For Theirs Is The Hunger For Paradise.

One Flower May Slay The Winter And Meet Death.

No One Knows The Colour Of A Flower Till It Is Broken.

A Slight Wind Shakes The Seed-pods My Thoughts Are Spent As The Black Seeds.