I Have Met With Women Whom I

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings: Climb With Me The Steep,-- Nature's Observatory--whence The Dell, In Flowery Slopes, Its River's Crystal Swell, May Seem A Span; Let Me Thy Vigils Keep 'mongst Boughs Pavilion'd, Where The Deer's Swift Leap Startles The Wild Bee From The Foxglove Bell.

It Is A Flaw In Happiness To See Beyond Our Bourn, - It Forces Us In Summer Skies To Mourn, It Spoils The Singing Of The Nightingale.

Alas! When Passion Is Both Meek And Wild!

You Have Absorb'd Me. I Have A Sensation At The Present Moment As Though I Was Dissolving.

Of Love, That Fairest Joys Give Most Unrest.