Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease

The Feel Of Not To Feel It, When There Is None To Heal It Nor Numbed Sense To Steel It.

Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.

Thou, Silent Form, Dost Tease Us Out Of Thought As Doth Eternity.

If I Should Die, I Have Left No Immortal Work Behind Me — Nothing To Make My Friends Proud Of My Memory — But I Have Loved The Principle Of Beauty In All Things, And If I Had Had Time I Would Have Made Myself Remembered.

When It Is Moving On Luxurious Wings, The Soul Is Lost In Pleasant Smotherings.