I Long For Scenes Where Man Has

I Was Byron And Shakespeare Formerly.

Love Lives With Nature, Not With Lust. Go Find Her In The Flowers.

I Never Saw So Sweet A Face. As That I Stood Before. My Heart Has Left It Dwelling Place ... And Can Return No More.

I Am The Self-consumer Of My Woes.

Into The Nothingness Of Scorn And Noise, Into The Living Sea Of Waking Dreams, Where There Is Neither Sense Of Life Or Joys, But The Vast Shipwreck Of My Life's Esteems; And E'en The Dearest--that I Love The Best-- Are Strange--nay, Rather Stranger Than The Rest.