Pains Of Love Be Sweeter Far Than

All Flowers Will Droop In The Absence Of The Sun That Waked Their Sweets.

They First Condemn That First Advised The Ill.

Our Souls Sit Close And Silently Within, And Their Own Web From Their Own Entrails Spin; And When Eyes Meet Far Off, Our Sense Is Such, That, Spider-like, We Feel The Tenderest Touch.

I Saw Myself The Lambent Easy Light Gild The Brown Horror, And Dispel The Night.

Youth Should Watch Joys And Shoot Them As They Fly.