The Air Is All Softness.

Now A Soft Kiss - Aye, By That Kiss, I Vow An Endless Bliss.

But The Rose Leaves Herself Upon The Brier, For Winds To Kiss And Grateful Bees To Feed.

Severn - I - Lift Me Up - I Am Dying - I Shall Die Easy; Don't Be Frightened - Be Firm, And Thank God It Has Come.

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy Forever: Its Loveliness Increases; It Will Never Pass Into Nothingness.