My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!

God, I can push the grass apart and lay my finger on Thy heart.

There is no shelter in you anywhere.

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

Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me

Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.

I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.