My Sun Sets To Raise

She Lived, We'll Say, A Harmless Life, She Called A Virtuous Life, A Quiet Life, Which Was Not Life At All (but That She Had Not Lived Enough To Know)

I Tell You, Hopeless Grief Is Passionless.

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.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End.

You're Something Between A Dream And A Miracle.