When The Journey's Over/there'll Be

They Put Arsenic In His Meat And Stared Aghast To Watch Him Eat; They Poured Strychnine In His Cup And Shook To See Him Drink It Up.

Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall, But When They Drop And Die No Star Is Lost At All From All The Star-sown Sky. The Toil Of All That Be Helps Not The Primal Fault; It Rains Into The Sea And Still The Sea Is Salt.

Oh When I Was In Love With You, Then I Was Clean And Brave, And Miles Around The Wonder Grew How Well Did I Behave. And Now The Fancy Passes By, And Nothing Will Remain, And Miles Around They'll Say That I Am Quite Myself Again.

The Mortal Sickness Of A Mind Too Unhappy To Be Kind.

Nature, Not Content With Denying Him The Ability To Think, Has Endowed Him With The Ability To Write.