Born in December 22, 1869 / Died in April 6, 1935 / United States / English
I shall have more to say when I am dead.
Love must have wings to fly away from love, and to fly back again.
Youth sees too far to see how near it is To seeing farther.
For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think;- And no man knows what then she may discover.
He knows much of what men paint themselves would blister in the light of what they are.
I don't say what God is, but a name That somehow answers us when we are driven To feel and think how little we have to do With what we are.
He set the jug down slowly at his feet With trembling care, knowing that most things break;
And at his heart there may have gnawed Sick memories of a dead faith foiled and flawed
And we who delve in beauty's lore Know all that we have known before...
the cold eternal shores That look sheer down To the dark tideless floods of Nothingness Where all who know may drown.
Your Dollar is your only Word, The wrath of it your only fear....
If after all that we have lived and thought, All comes to Nought,—...
He mourned Romance, now on the town, And Art, a vagrant.
The forehead and the little ears Have gone where Saturn keeps the years;...
Out of a grave I come to tell you this, Out of a grave I come to quench the kiss...
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