Only God, my dear, Could love you for yourself alone And not your yellow hair.
Cast a cold eye on life, on death Horseman pass by
Be secret and exult, Because of all things known That is most difficult.
My father was an angry and impatient teacher and flung the reading book at my head.
Never to have lived is best, ancient writers say. Never to have drawn the breath of life, never to have looked into the eye of day; The second best's a gay goodnight and quickly turn away.
The fascination of what's difficult Has dried the sap out of my veins, and rent Spontaneous joy and natural content Out of my heart.