All poetry is difficult to read - The sense of it anyhow.
Heart, fear nothing, for, heart, thou shalt find her- Next time, herself!-not the trouble behind her
I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.
Kiss me as if you made believe You were not sure this eve, How my face, your flower, had pursed It's petals up.
Truth never hurts the teller.
Thought is the soul of act.