The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make

The Truth I Do Not Dare To Know I Muffle With A Jest.

I Imagine Therefore I Belong And Am Free.

Remorse Is Memory Awake.

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

Somewhere In My Soul A Thought Went Up In My Mind Today That I Have Had Before, But Did Not Finish, Some Way Back, I Could Not Fix The Year. Nor Where It Went, Nor Why It Came The Second Time To Me, Nor Definetly What It Was, Have I The Art To Say. But Somewhere In My Soul, I Know I've Met The Thing Before; It Just Reminded Me-' Twas All'-and Came My Way No More.