I Need Not To Be More With

I Have A Violence In Me That Is Hot As Death-blood.

There Was A Beautiful Time.

Let Me Not Be Weak And Tell Others How Bleeding I Am Internally; How Day By Day It Drips, And Gathers, And Congeals.

I Want So Obviously, So Desperately To Be Loved, And To Be Capable Of Love.

I Am Flushed And Warm. I Think I May Be Enormous, I Am So Stupidly Happy, My Wellingtons Squelching And Squelching Through The Beautiful Red.