I Am In That Temper That If

Is There Another Life? Shall I Awake And Find All This A Dream? There Must Be We Cannot Be Created For This Sort Of Suffering.

You Have Absorb'd Me. I Have A Sensation At The Present Moment As Though I Was Dissolving.

I Cannot See What Flowers Are At My Feet, Nor What Soft Incense Hangs Upon The Boughs, But, In Embalmed Darkness, Guess Each Sweet.

Nothing Ever Becomes Real Till It Is Experienced.

The Roaring Of The Wind Is My Wife And The Stars Through The Window Pane Are My Children.