O, Sorrow! Why Dost Borrow Heart's Lightness

Beauty Is Truth, Truth Beauty

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

My Love Is Selfish. I Cannot Breathe Without You.

Here Are Sweet Peas, On Tiptoe For A Flight; With Wings Of Gentle Flush O'er Delicate White, And Taper Fingers Catching At All Things, To Bind Them All About With Tiny Rings.

How Beautiful, If Sorrow Had Not Made Sorrow More Beautiful Than Beauty's Self.