I Never Deny Poems When They Come;

Happiness, To Some, Elation; Is, To Others, Mere Stagnation.

When I Go Away From You The World Beats Dead Like A Slackened Drum.

I Am Tired, Beloved, Of Chafing My Heart Against The Want Of You; Of Squeezing It Into Little Inkdrops, And Posting It.

Without Poetry The Soul And Heart Of Man Starves And Dies.

I Ask But One Thing Of You, Only One, That Always You Will Be My Dream Of You; That Never Shall I Wake To Find Untrue All This I Have Believed And Rested On, Forever Vanished, Like A Vision Gone Out Into The Night. Alas, How Few There Are Who Strike In Us A Chord We Knew Existed, But So Seldom Heard Its Tone We Tremble At The Half-forgotten Sound. The World Is Full Of Rude Awakenings And Heaven-born Castles Shattered To The Ground, Yet Still Our Human Longing Vainly Clings To A Belief In Beauty Through All Wrongs. O Stay Your Hand, And Leave My Heart Its Songs!