I Have So Much Of You In

Dance And Provencal Song And Sunburnt Mirth! On For A Beaker Full Of The Warm South, Full Of The True, The Blushful Hippocrene! With Beaded Bubbles Winking At The Brim, And Purple-stained Mouth.

There's A Blush For Won't, And A Blush For Shan't, And A Blush For Having Done It: There's A Blush For Thought And A Blush For Naught, And A Blush For Just Begun It.

O, Sorrow! Why Dost Borrow Heart's Lightness From The Merriment Of May?

The Air Is All Softness.

I Never Was In Love - Yet The Voice And The Shape Of A Woman Has Haunted Me These Two Days.