The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph,

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

I Have Been Here Before, But When Or How I Cannot Tell: I Know The Grass Beyond The Door, The Sweet Keen Smell, The Sighing Sound, The Lights Around The Shore. ... You Have Been Mine Before, How Long Ago I May Not Know: But Just When At That Swallow's Soar Your Neck Turned So, Some Veil Did Fall - I Knew It All Of Yore. Has This Been Thus Before? And Shall Not Thus Time's Eddying Flight Still With Our Lives Our Love Restore In Death's Despite, And Day And Night Yield One Delight Once More

Love, Which Is Quickly Kindled In The Gentle Heart, Seized This Man For The Fair Form That Was Taken From Me, The Manner Still Hurts Me. Love Which Absolves No Beloved One From Loving, Seized Me So Strongly With His Charm That, As Thou Seest, It Does Not Leave Me Yet

At Length Their Long Kiss Severed, With Sweet Smart:and As The Last Slow Sudden Drops Are Shedfrom Sparkling Eaves When All The Storm Has Fled,so Singly Flagged The Pulses Of Each Heart.

Places That Are Empty Of You Are Empty Of Life.