The Heart Asks Pleasure--first-- And Then--excuse From

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

I Never Lost As Much But Twice, And That Was In The Sod.

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

How Frugal Is The Chariot That Bears A Human Soul.

Bring Me The Sunset In A Cup.