And When Thou Art Weary I'll Find

I Want A Brighter Word Than Bright

Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive.

How Sad It Is When A Luxurious Imagination Is Obliged In Self Defense To Deaden Its Delicacy In Vulgarity, And Riot In Things Attainable That It May Not Have Leisure To Go Mad After Things That Are Not.

Through The Dancing Poppies Stole A Breeze, Most Softly Lulling To My Soul.

I Am Sailing With Thee Through The Dizzy Sky! How Beautiful Thou Art!