But Little Do Or Can

My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am Whole And Sole Reality.

Pleasure Must Succeed To Pleasure, Else Past Pleasure Turns To Pain

Best Be Yourself, Imperial, Plain, And True.

I Want To Know A Butcher Paints, A Baker Rhymes For His Pursuit, Candlestick-maker Much Acquaints His Soul With Song, Or, Haply Mute, Blows Out His Brains Upon The Flute.

My Sun Sets To Rise Again.