All Recurring Joy Is Pain Refined.

Now You Are Come! You Tremble Like A Star Poised Where, Behind Earth's Rim, The Sun Has Set. Your Voice Has Sung Across My Heart, But Numb And Mute, I Have No Tones To Answer.

Oh! To Be A Flower Nodding In The Sun, Bending, Then Upspringing As The Breezes Run.

How Loud Clocks Can Tick When A Room Is Empty, And One Is Alone!

To Understand Vers Libre, One Must Abandon All Desire To Find In It The Even Rhythm Of Metrical Feet. One Must Allow The Lines To Flow As They Will When Read Aloud By An Intelligent Reader.

Happiness, To Some, Is Elation; To Others It Is Mere Stagnation.