I Tasted - Careless - Then -

My Love For Those I Love -- Not Many -- Not Very Many, But Don't I Love Them So?

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

Eternity' Is There, We Say, As Of A Station. Meanwhile, He Is So Near, He Joins Me In My Ramble? Divides Abode With Me? No Friend Have I That So Persists As This Eternity.

You'll Find It-when You Try To Die- The Easier To Let Go- For Recollecting Such As Went- You Could Not Spare-you Know.

The Past Is Not A Package One Can Lay Away.