And Lips Say “god Be Pitiful,” Who

When We First Met And Loved, I Did Not Build Upon The Event With Marble. . . .

As The Moths Around A Taper, As The Bees Around A Rose, As The Gnats Around A Vapour, So The Spirits Group And Close Round About A Holy Childhood, As If Drinking Its Repose.

Yes, I Answered You Last Night; No, This Morning, Sir, I Say: Colors Seen By Candle-light Will Not Look The Same By Day.

Quick-loving Hearts ... May Quickly Loathe.

And If God Choose I Shall But Love Thee Better After Death.