To Prolong Doubt Was To

A Beauty Neither Of Fine Colour Nor Long Eyelash, Nor Pencilled Brow, But Of Meaning, Of Movement, Of Radiance.

I Have Not Broken Your Heart - You Have Broken It; And In Breaking It, You Have Broken Mine.

As To The Thoughts, They Are Elfish. Those Eyes In The Evening Star You Must Have Seen In A Dream.

A Waft Of Wind Came Sweeping Down The Laurel-walk, And Trembled Through The Boughs Of The Chestnut: It Wandered Away-away-to An Indefinite Distance-it Died. The Nightingale's Song Was Then The Only Voice Of The Hour: In Listening To It, I Again Wept.

I Believe While I Tremble; I Trust While I Weep.