Beauty Like Hers Is Genius.

Unto The Man Of Yearning Thought And Aspiration, To Do Nought Is In Itself Almost An Act.

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.

Deep In The Sun-searched Growths The Dragon-fly Hangs Like A Blue Thread Loosened From The Sky: So This Winged Hour Is Dropt To Us From Above. Oh! Clasp We To Our Hearts, For Deathless Dower, This Close-companioned Inarticulate Hour When Twofold Silence Was The Song Of Love.

The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph, A Delight, A Madness!

Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back Was Yellow Like Ripe Corn.