Too Much Beauty, I Reckon, Is Nothing

The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I Barter For Curl Upon That Mart.

What Frightens Me Is That Men Are Content With What Is Not Life At All.

Sleep On, Baby, On The Floor, Tired Of All The Playing, Sleep With Smile The Sweeter For That You Dropped Away In! On Your Curls' Full Roundness Stand Golden Lights Serenely-- One Cheek, Pushed Out By The Hand, Folds The Dimple Inly.

If You Desire Faith, Then You Have Faith Enough.

The Devil's Most Devilish When Respectable.