All June I bound the rose in sheaves, Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves.
At last awake from life, that insane dream we take for waking now.
I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chattered all the way. But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me!
All poetry is putting the infinite within the finite.
Faultless to a fault.
Night conceals a world but reveals a universe.