I Want A Brighter Word Than Bright

That Queen Of Secrecy, The Violet.

I Have Two Luxuries To Brood Over In My Walks, Your Loveliness And The Hour Of My Death. O That I Could Have Possession Of Them Both In The Same Minute.

My Chest Of Books Divide Amongst My Friends.

If Something Is Not Beautiful, It Is Probably Not True.

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.