I Am Waylaid By Beauty.

Not Truth, But Faith It Is That Keeps The World Alive.

I Have Loved Badly, Loved The Great Too Soon, Withdrawn My Words Too Late; And Eaten In An Echoing Hall Alone And From A Chipped Plate The Words That I Withdrew Too Late.

Ah! Up Then From The Ground Sprang I And Hailed The Earth With Such A Cry As Is Not Heard Save From A Man Who Has Been Dead, And Lives Again. About The Trees My Arms I Wound; Like One Gone Mad I Hugged The Ground; I Raised My Quivering Arms On High; I Laughed And Laughed Into The Sky.

Beautiful As A Dandelion-blossom Golden In The Green Grass, This Life Can Be.

Pity Me That The Heart Is Slow To Learn What The Swift Mind Beholds At Every Turn.