If I Had Caused The Cloud, It

I Never Told My Love Vocally Still.

You Have Been Compelled To Cultivate Your Reflective Faculties, For Want Of Occasions For Frittering Your Life Away In Silly Trifles.

Honest People Don't Hide Their Deeds.

How Cruel, Your Veins Are Full Of Ice-water And Mine Are Boiling

A Heaven So Clear, An Earth So Calm, So Sweet, So Soft, So Hushed An Air; And, Deepening Still The Dreamlike Charm, Wild Moor-sheep Feeding Everywhere.