Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.

I Must Go In, The Fog Is Rising.

Affection Is Like Bread, Unnoticed Till We Starve, And Then We Dream Of It, And Sing Of It, And Paint It, When Every Urchin In The Street Has More Than He Can Eat.

This So Much Joy! This So Much Joy! If I Should Fail, What Poverty! And Yet, As Poor As I Have Ventured All Upon A Throw; Have Gained! Yes! Hesitated So This Side The Victory!

So Proud She Was To Die It Made Us All Ashamed That What We Cherished, So Unknown To Her Desire Seemed. So Satisfied To Go Where None Of Us Should Be, Immediately, That Anguish Stooped Almost To Jealousy.

And You Dropt, Lost, When Something Broke-- And Let You From A Dream