O Troubled Forms, O Early Love Unfortunate

Blessed Be Death, That Cuts In Marble What Would Have Sunk To Dust!

Where You Used To Be, There Is A Hole In The World, Which I Find Myself Constantly Walking Around In The Daytime, And Falling In At Night. I Miss You Like Hell.

And All The Loveliest Things There Be Come Simply, So It Seems To Me.

I Make Bean Stalks, I'm A Builder, Like Yourself.

The Englishman Foxtrots As He Fox-hunts, With All His Being, Through Thickets, Through Ditches, Over Hedges, Through Chiffons, Through Waiters, Over Saxophones, To The Victorious Finish; And Who Goes Home Depends On How Many The Ambulance Will Accommodate.