The Day Is Gone, And All Its

The Excellence Of Every Art Is Its Intensity.

Thou Wast Not Born For Death, Immortal Bird! No Hungry Generations Tread Thee Down; The Voice I Hear This Passing Night Was Heard In Ancient Days By Emperor And Clown.

I Shall Soon Be Laid In The Quiet Grave--thank God For The Quiet Grave--o! I Can Feel The Cold Earth Upon Me--the Daisies Growing Over Me--o For This Quiet--it Will Be My First.

I Never Was In Love - Yet The Voice And The Shape Of A Woman Has Haunted Me These Two Days.

The Uttered Part Of A Man's Life, Let Us Always Repeat, Bears To The Unuttered, Unconscious Part A Small Unknown Proportion. He Himself Never Knows It, Much Less Do Others.