I Cannot Love As I

We Live Not To Ourselves, Our Work Is Life.

There Is No Disappointment We Endure One-half So Great As What We Are To Ourselves.

The World Is A Great Poem, And The World's The Words It Is Writ In, And We Souls The Thoughts.

Burn To Be Great, Pay Not Thy Praise To Lofty Things Alone. The Plains Are Everlasting As The Hills, The Bard Cannot Have Two Pursuits; Aught Else Comes On The Mind With The Like Shock As Though Two Worlds Had Gone To War, And Met In Air.

Wan Night, The Shadow Goer, Came Stepping In.