Music my rampart, and my only one.

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.

I know, but I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.

A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.

There is no shelter in you anywhere.