My Heart Aches, And A Drowsy Numbness

This Living Hand, Now Warm And Capable Of Earnest Grasping, Would, If It Were Cold And In The Icy Silence Of The Tomb, So Haunt Thy Days And Chill Thy Dreaming Nights That Thou Would Wish Thine Own Heart Dry Of Blood, So In My Veins Red Life Might Stream Again, And Thou Be Conscience-calm'd. See, Here It Is-- I Hold It Towards You.

I Cannot Exist Without You. I Am Forgetful Of Everything But Seeing You Again.

What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?

What Shocks The Virtuous Philosopher, Delights The Chameleon Poet.

A Hope Beyond The Shadow Of A Dream.