What Should I Be But Just What

Should At That Moment The Full Moon Step Forth Upon The Hill, And Memories Hard To Bear At Noon, By Moonlight Harder Still, Form In The Shadows Of The Trees, - Things That You Could Not Spare And Live, Or So You Thought, Yet These All Gone, And You Still There, A Man No Longer What He Was, Not Yet The Thing He Planned.

A Grave Is Such A Quiet Place.

I Am Waylaid By Beauty.

He That Would Eat Of Love Must Eat It Where It Hangs.

It's Not Love's Going Hurts My Days But That It Went In Little Ways.