The Lovesick, The Betrayed, And The Jealous

On The First Of May, With My Comrades Of The Catechism Class, I Laid Lilac, Chamomile And Rose Before The Altar Of The Virgin, And Returned Full Of Pride To Show My Blessed Posy. My Mother Laughed Her Irreverent Laugh And, Looking At My Bunch Of Flowers, Which Was Bringing The May-bug Into The Sitting-room Right Under The Lamp, She Said: Do You Suppose It Wasn't Already Blessed Before?

So Now, Whenever I Despair, I No Longer Expect My End, But Some Bit Of Luck, Some Commonplace Little Miracle Which, Like A Glittering Link, Will Mend Again The Necklace Of My Days.

I Want Nothing From Love, In Short, But Love.

When She Raises Her Eyelids It's As If She Were Taking Off All Her Clothes.

Don't Cudgel Your Brains Over My Little Problems.