If I Leave All For

Oh, A Day In The City-square, There Is No Such Pleasure In Life!

The Large White Owl That With Eye Is Blind, That Hath Sate For Years In The Old Tree Hollow, Is Carried Away In A Gust Of Wind.

Eve Is A Twofold Mystery.

I Saw, In Gradual Vision Through My Tears, The Sweet, Sad Years, The Melancholy Years, Those Of My Own Life, Who By Turns Had Flung A Shadow Across Me.

A Grave, On Which To Rest From Singing?