Love Lives With Nature, Not

The Present Is The Funeral Of The Past, And Man The Living Sepulchre Of Life.

Loud Is The Summer's Busy Song The Smallest Breeze Can Find A Tongue, While Insects Of Each Tiny Size Grow Teasing With Their Melodies, Till Noon Burns With Its Blistering Breath Around, And Day Lies Still As Death.

Crowded Places, I Shunned Them As Noises Too Rude / And Flew To The Silence Of Sweet Solitude.

I Hid My Love When Young Till I Couldn't Bear The Buzzing Of A Fly; I Hid My Life To My Despite Till I Could Not Bear To Look At Light: I Dare Not Gaze Upon Her Face But Left Her Memory In Each Place; Where'er I Saw A Wild Flower Lie I Kissed And Bade My Love Good-bye.

Throw Not My Words Away, As Many Do;they're Gold In Value, Though They're Cheap To You.