From The Sprinkled Isles, Lily

Each Life Unfulfilled, You See; It Hangs Still, Patchy And Scrappy: We Have Not Sighed Deep, Laughed Free, Starved, Feasted, Despaired,—been Happy.

Just For A Handful Of Silver He Left Us, Just For A Riband To Stick In His Coat.

What So Wild As Words Are?

Such Ever Was Love's Way: To Rise, It Stoops.

This Could But Have Happened Once,- And We Missed It, Lost It Forever.