You Cannot Conceive How I Ache To

I Am In That Temper That If I Were Under Water I Would Scarcely Kick To Come To The Top.

My Imagination Is A Monastery And I Am Its Monk.

There Is Nothing Stable In The World; Uproar's Your Only Music.

And How They Kist Each Other's Tremulous Eyes.

'tis The Witching Hour Of Night, Orbed Is The Moon And Bright. And The Stars They Glisten, Glisten, Seeming With Bright Eyes To Listen- For What Listen They?