The Red Sahara In An Angry Glow,

O Sleep, We Are Beholden To Thee, Sleep; Thou Bearest Angels To Us In The Night, Saints Out Of Heaven With Palms. Seen By Thy Light Sorrow Is Some Old Tale That Goeth Not Deep; Love Is A Pouting Child.

And Bitter Waxed The Fray; Brother With Brother Spake No Word When They Met In The Way.

Youth! Youth! How Buoyant Are Thy Hopes! They Turn, Like Marigolds, Toward The Sunny Side.

You Moon, Have You Done Something Wrong In Heaven / That God Has Hidden Your Face?

I Don't Want To Die. But I Want To Be Dead.