A Toad, Can Die Of

A Charm Invests A Face Imperfectly Beheld,— The Lady Dare Not Lift Her Veil For Fear It Be Dispelled. But Peers Beyond Her Mesh, And Wishes, And Denies,— Lest Interview Annul A Want That Image Satisfies.

Inebriate Of Air Am I, And Debauchee Of Dew, Reeling, Through Endless Summer Days, From Inns Of Molten Blue.

The Soul Selects Her Own Society.

God, Keep Me From What They Call 'households,'

I Dwell In Possibilities .