But One Wants The Idea Of Death,

Into The Dark Night Resignedly I Go, I Am Not So Afraid Of The Dark Night As The Friends I Do Not Know, I Do Not Fear The Night Above As I Fear The Friends Below.

My Heart Was Full Of Softening Showers, I Used To Swing Like This For Hours, I Did Not Care For War Or Death, I Was Glad To Draw My Breath.

It Is The Privilege Of The Rich To Waste The Time Of The Poor To Water With Tears In Secret A Tree That Grows In Secret That Bears Fruit In Secret That Ripened Falls To The Ground In Secret And Manures The Parent Tree Oh The Wicked Tree Of Hatred And The Secret The Sap Rising And The Tears Falling.

Marriage I Think For Women Is The Best Of Opiates. It Kills The Thoughts That Think About The Thoughts, It Is The Best Of Opiates. So Said Maria. But Too Long In Solitude She'd Dwelt, And Too Long Her Thoughts Had Felt Their Strength. So When The Man Drew Near, Out Popped Her Thoughts And Covered Him With Fear. Poor Maria! Better That She Had Kept Her Thoughts On A Chain, For Now She's Alone Again And All In Pain; She Sighs For The Man That Went And The Thoughts That Stay To Trouble Her Dreams By Night And Her Dreams By Day.

The Religion Of Christianity Is Mixed Of Sweetness And Cruelty Reject This Sweetness, For She Wears A Smoky Dress Out Of Hell Fires.