He Lives Most Life Whoever Breathes Most

Love Me Sweet With All Thou Art Feeling, Thinking, Seeing; Love Me In The Lightest Part, Love Me In Full Being.

With Stammering Lips And Insufficient Sound I Strive And Struggle To Deliver Right The Music Of My Nature.

The Soul's Rialto Hath Its Merchandise, I Barter For Curl Upon That Mart.

For 'tis Not In Mere Death That Men Die Most.

I Saw, In Gradual Vision Through My Tears, The Sweet, Sad Years, The Melancholy Years, Those Of My Own Life, Who By Turns Had Flung A Shadow Across Me.