I swear to keep the dead upon my mind, / Disdain for all time to be overglad.

The music is in minors.

We are each other's harvest; we are each other's business; we are each other's magnitude and bond.

Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come again in this identical guise.

There are no magics or elves / Or timely godmothers to guide us. We are lost, must / Wizard a track through our own screaming weed.

To be in love Is to touch things with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well.

No man can give me any word but Wait.