Morning Without You Is A Dwindled Dawn.

Not 'revelation'-'tis That Waits/ But Our Unfurnished Eyes

I Had No Time To Hate, Because The Grave Would Hinder Me, And Life Was Not So Ample I Could Finish Enmity Nor Had I Time To Love: But Since Some Industry Must Be, The Little Toil Of Love, I Thought, Was Large Enough For Me.

[a] Mother Is One To Whom You Hurry When You Are Troubled.

Drunkards Of Summer Are Quite As Frequent As Drunkards Of Wine.

Exultation Is The Going Of An Inland Soul To Sea Past The Houses, Past The Headlands Into Deep Eternity! Bred As We, Among The Mountains Can The Sailor Understand The Divine Intoxication Of The First League Out From Land?