Earth Changes, But Thy Soul And God

That Moment She Was Mine, Mine, Fair, Perfectly Pure And Good: I Found A Thing To Do, And All Her Hair In One Long Yellow String I Wound Three Times Her Little Throat Around, And Strangled Her. No Pain Felt She; I Am Quite Sure She Felt No Pain. As A Shut Bud That Holds A Bee, I Warily Oped Her Lids: Again Laughed The Blue Eyes Without A Stain. And I Untightened The Next Tress About Her Neck; Her Cheek Once More Blushed Bright Beneath My Burning Kiss . . .

Most Progress Is Most Failure.

No Work Begun Shall Ever Pause For Death.

Brightest Truth, Purest Trust In The Universe, All Were For Me, In The Kiss Of One Girl.

Only I Discern Infinite Passion, And The Pain Of Finite Hearts That Yearn.