No One Knows, The Heart Of A

Pompeii Has Nothing To Teach Us, We Know Crack Of Volcanic Fissure, Slow Flow Of Terrible Lava, Pressure On Heart, Lungs, The Brain About To Burst Its Brittle Case (what The Skull Can Endure!)

Cheat Me Not With Time, With The Dull Ache Of Flesh, For All Flesh Turns, Even The Loveliest Ankle And Frail Thigh, To Bitterest Dust.

One Flower May Slay The Winter And Meet Death.

But Beauty Is Set Apart, Beauty Is Cast By The Sea, A Barren Rock, Beauty Is Set About With Wrecks Of Ships.

A Slight Wind Shakes The Seed-pods My Thoughts Are Spent As The Black Seeds.