My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe

My Friends Should Drink A Dozen Of Claret On My Tomb.

A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever: Its Loveliness Increases; It Will Never Pass Into Nothingness.

And Shade The Violets, That They May Bind The Moss In Leafy Nets.

I Came To Feel How Far Above All Fancy, Pride, And Fickle Maidenhood, All Earthly Pleasure, All Imagined Good, Was The Warm Tremble Of A Devout Kiss.

Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive.