Boot, Saddle, To Horse, And Away!

Since There My Past Life Lies, Why Alter It?

Can We Love But On Condition That The Thing We Love Must Die?

Let Friend Trust Friends, And Love Demand Love's Like.

All Service Is The Same With God.

That Moment She Was Mine, Mine, Fair, Perfectly Pure And Good: I Found A Thing To Do, And All Her Hair In One Long Yellow String I Wound Three Times Her Little Throat Around, And Strangled Her. No Pain Felt She; I Am Quite Sure She Felt No Pain. As A Shut Bud That Holds A Bee, I Warily Oped Her Lids: Again Laughed The Blue Eyes Without A Stain. And I Untightened The Next Tress About Her Neck; Her Cheek Once More Blushed Bright Beneath My Burning Kiss . . .