.. . . Would I Were In

And I Shall Find Some Girl Perhaps, And A Better One Than You, With Eyes As Wise, But Kindlier, And Lips As Soft, But True, And I Dare Say She Will Do.

The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom Passion Rules.

Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond?

They Say That The Dead Die Not, But Remain Near To The Rich Heirs Of Their Grief And Mirth. I Think They Ride The Calm Mid-heaven, As These, In Wise Majestic Melancholy Train, And Watch The Moon, And The Still-raging Seas, And Men, Coming And Going On The Earth.

Infinite Hungers Leap No More I In The Chance Swaying Of Your Dress; And Love Has Changed To Kindliness.