A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.

The sun just touched the morning; The morning, happy thing, Supposed that he had come to dwell, And life would be all spring.

A letter always seemed to me like immortality because it is the mind alone without corporeal friend.

'Arcturus' is his other name- I'd rather call him 'Star.' It's very mean of Science To go and interfere!

There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a trance So memory can step around, across, upon it.

Beauty is not the cause of something, it is what it is.

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.