I swear to keep the dead upon my mind, / Disdain for all time to be overglad.
Life for my child is simple, and is good.
Poetry is life distilled.
I shall create! If not a note, a hole./If not an overture, a desecration.
And if sun comes / How shall we greet him? / Shall we not dread him, / Shall we not fear him / After so lengthy a / Session with shade?
at a certain moment in social proceedings, I am on FIRE to leave: I have a leaving-FIT.