Guess I'll weep awhile. Guess I won't, I mean.
The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.
We think-although of course, now, we very seldom Clearly think- That the other side of War is Peace.
That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.
Night falls fast. Today is in the past.
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.