Poetry, Like Love, Is Something

It Was Roses, Roses, All The Way, With Myrtle Mixed In My Path Like Mad.

I Say, The Acknowledgment Of God In Christaccepted By Thy Reason, Solves For Theeall Questions In The Earth And Out Of It,and Has So Far Advanced Thee To Be Wise.

A Minute's Success Pays The Failure Of Years.

Days Decrease, / And Autumn Grows, Autumn In Everything.

What Of Soul Was Left, I Wonder, When The Kissing Had To Stop?