Forever Is Composed Of Nows.

Does Not Eternity Appear Dreadful To You. I Often Get To Thinking Of It And It Seems So Dark To Me That I Almost Wish There Was No Eternity. To Think That We Must Forever Live And Never Cease To Be. It Seems As If Death Would Be A Relief To So Endless A State Of Existence.

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

The Lovely Flowers Embarrass Me. They Make Me Regret I Am Not A Bee.

To See The Summer Sky Is Poetry, Though Never In A Book It Lie— True Poems Flee—

My Life Closed Twice Before Its Close