A Little Madness In The Spring Is

That Love Is All There Is, Is All We Know Of Love.

To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry, Though Never In A Book It Lie— True Poems Flee—

Spring's First Conviction Is A Wealth Beyond Its Whole Experience.

He Fumbles At Your Spirit As Players At The Keys Before They Drop Full Music On; He Stuns You By Degrees. Prepares Your Brittle Substance For The Ethereal Blow By Fainter Hammers, Further Heard, Then Nearer, Then So Slow Your Breath Has Time To Straighten Your Brain To Bubble Cool,- Deals One Imperial Thunderbolt That Scalps Your Naked Soul.

A Great Hope Fell You Heard No Noise The Ruin Was Within.