Take All Away From Me, But Leave

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry. If I Feel Physically As If The Top Of My Head Were Taken Off, I Know That Is Poetry. These Are The Only Ways I Know It. Is There Any Other Way?

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

Narcotics Cannot Still The Tooth. That Nibbles At The Soul

It Was A Quiet Way - He Asked If I Was His - I Made No Answer Of The Tongue But Answer Of The Eyes - And Then He Bore Me On Before This Mortal Noise With Swiftness, As Of Chariots And Distance, As Of Wheels. This World Did Drop Away As Acres From The Feet Of One That Leaneth From Balloon Upon An Ether Street. The Gulf Behind Was Not, The Continents Were New - Eternity Was Due. No Seasons Were To Us - It Was Not Night Nor Morn - But Sunrise Stopped Upon The Place And Fastened In Dawn.

What Shall We Do My Darling, When Trial Grows More, And More, When The Dim, Lone Light Expires, And It's Dark, So Very Dark, And We Wander, And Know Not Where, And Cannot Get Out Of The Forest - Whose Is The Hand To Help Us, And To Lead, And Forever Guide Us? ... Where Do You Think I've Strayed And From What New Errand Returned. I Have Come From To And Fro, And Walking Up And Down The Same Place That Satan Hailed From When God Asked Where He'd Been.