For A Man To Become A Poet

There Is No Passion, More Spectral Or Fantastical Than Hate, Not Even Its Opposite, Love, So Peoples Air, With Phantoms, As This Madness Of The Heart.

I Am About To Be Married, And Am Of Course In All The Misery Of A Man In Pursuit Of Happiness.

Smiles Form The Channels Of A Future Tear.

All Who Joy Would Win Must Share It. Happiness Was Born A Twin.

What Want These Outlaws Conquerors Should Have But History's Purchased Page To Call Them Great?