I Thought When Love For You Died,

I Have Need To Busy My Heart With Quietude.

The Worst Of Slaves Is He Whom Passion Rules.

These Laid The World Away; Poured Out The Red Sweet Wine Of Youth; Gave Up The Years To Be Of Work And Joy, And That Unhoped Serene, That Men Call Age; And Those Who Would Have Been, Their Sons, They Gave, Their Immortality.

And In That Heaven Of All Their Wish, There Shall Be No More Land, Say Fish

There Are Only Three Things In The World, One Is To Read Poetry, Another Is To Write Poetry, And The Best Of All Is To Live Poetry.