I had no time to hate, because The grave would hinder me, And life was not so ample I Could finish enmity Nor had I time to love: but since Some industry must be, The little toil of love, I thought, Was large enough for me.

Apparently with no surprise To any happy Flower The Frost beheads it at its play -- In accidental power -- The blonde Assassin passes on -- The Sun proceeds unmoved To measure off another Day For an Approving God.

I started early, took my dog, And visited the sea; The mermaids in the basement Came out to look at me

Good times are always mutual; that is what makes good times.

A Word that Breathes Distinctly Has not the Power to Die

I wonder if it hurts to live, And if they have to try, And whether, could they choose between, They would not rather die.

I imagine therefore I belong and am free.