I Do Not Think There

And He Whose Soul Is Flat -- The Sky Will Cave In On Him By And By.

I Would Blossom If I Were A Rose.

Death Devours All Lovely Things; Lesbia With Her Sparrow Shares The Darkness--presently Every Bed Is Narrow.

O Troubled Forms, O Early Love Unfortunate And Hard, Time Has Estranged You Into A Jewel Cold And Pure

What Terrible Fear Causes Man To Address The Void As Thou?