I am all the time talking about you, and bragging, to one person or another. I am like the Ancient Mariner, who had a tale in his heart he must unfold to all. I am always buttonholing somebody and saying, "Someday you must meet my mother."
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
Lord I do fear / Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.
That which has quelled me, lives with me, Accomplice in catastrophe.
And he whose soul is flat -- the sky Will cave in on him by and by.
That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.