Oh! To Be A Butterfly Still, Upon

Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose.

I Never Deny Poems When They Come; Whatever I Am Doing, Whatever I Am Writing, I Lay It Aside And Attend To The Arriving Poem.

When Trying To Explain Anything, I Usually Find That The Bible, That Great Collection Of Magnificent And Varied Poetry, Has Said It Before In The Best Possible Way.

How Loud Clocks Can Tick When A Room Is Empty, And One Is Alone!

I Am Tired, Beloved, Of Chafing My Heart Against The Want Of You; Of Squeezing It Into Little Inkdrops, And Posting It.