Life Is A Spell So Exquisite That

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

Not If Their Party Were Waiting, Not If To Talk With Me Were To Them Now, Homesickness After Eternity.

To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave, But Gallanter, I Know, Who Charge Within The Bosom, The Cavalry Of Woe.

A Toad, Can Die Of Light - Death Is The Common Right Of Toads And Men

The Things That Never Can Come Back, Are Several - Childhood - Some Forms Of Hope - The Dead.