If Something Is Not Beautiful, It Is

Was It A Vision Or A Waking Dream? Fled Is That Music--do I Wake Or Sleep?

O For A Life Of Sensations Rather Than Of Thoughts!

The Roaring Of The Wind Is My Wife And The Stars Through The Window Pane Are My Children.

Pleasure Is Oft A Visitant; But Pain Clings Cruelly To Us.

The Redbreast Whistles From A Garden-croft; And Gathering Swallows Twitter In The Skies.