Now Hollow Fires Burn Out To Black,

Even When Poetry Has A Meaning, As It Usually Has, It May Be Inadvisable To Draw It Out. Perfect Understanding Will Sometimes Almost Extinguish Pleasure.

There, Like The Wind Through Woods In Riot, Through Him The Gale Of Life Blew High; The Tree Of Man Was Never Quiet: Then 'twas The Roman, Now 'tis I.

The Thoughts Of Others Were Light And Fleeting, Of Lovers' Meeting Or Luck Or Fame. Mine Were Of Trouble, And Mine Were Steady; So I Was Ready When Trouble Came.

I, A Stranger And Afraid, In A World I Never Made.

Give Crowns And Pounds And Guineas But Not Your Heart Away; Give Pearls Away And Rubies, But Keep Your Fancy Free.