I Must Choose Between Despair And Energy──i

The Feel Of Not To Feel It, When There Is None To Heal It Nor Numbed Sense To Steel It.

Open Afresh Your Rounds Of Starry Folds, Ye Ardent Marigolds.

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings

Tall Oaks Branch Charmed By The Earnest Stars Dream And So Dream All Night Without A Stir.

In A Drear-nighted December, Too Happy, Happy Brook, Thy Bubblings Ne'er Remember Apollo's Summer Look; But With A Sweet Forgetting, They Stay Their Crystal Fretting, Never, Never Petting About The Frozen Time.