When A Lover Is A Beggar Abject

My Best Acquaintances Are Those With Whom I Spoke No Word

Take All Away From Me, But Leave Me Ecstasy, And I Am Richer Then Than All My Fellow Men-.

The Soul Unto Itself Is An Imperial Friend, - Or The Most Agonizing Spy - An Enemy - Could Send -

For Each Ecstatic Instant We Must An Anguish Pay In Keen And Quivering Ratio To The Ecstasy.

As Summer Into Autumn Slips And Yet We Sooner Say "the Summer" Than "the Autumn," Lest We Turn The Sun Away, And Almost Count It An Affront The Presence To Concede Of One However Lovely, Not The One That We Have Loved - So We Evade The Charge Of Years On One Attempting Shy The Circumvention Of The Shaft Of Life's Declivity.