One Hates An Author That's All Author.

To Chase The Glowing Hours With Flying Feet.

I Am Surrounded Here By Parsons And Methodists, But As You Will See, Not Infested With The Mania.

So Bright The Tear In Beauty's Eye, Love Half Regrets To Kiss It Dry.

The Great Art Of Life Is Sensation, To Feel That We Exist, Even In Pain.

There Is A Tear For All Who Die, A Mourner O'er The Humblest Grave.