My Subject Is War, And The Pity

I Don't Ask Myself, Is The Life Congenial To Me? But, Am I Fitted For, Am I Called To, The Ministry?

Heart, You Were Never Hot Nor Large, Nor Full Like Hearts Made Great With Shot

Whatever Mourns When Many Leave These Shores: Whatever Shares The Eternal Reciprocity Of Tears.

All A Poet Can Do Today Is Warn.

Escape? There Is One Unwatched Way: Your Eyes. O Beauty! Keep Me Good That Secret Gate.