The Heart Wants What It Wants -

Proud Of My Broken Heart Since Thou Didst Break It, Proud Of The Pain I Did Not Feel Till Thee, Proud Of My Night Since Thou With Moons Dost Slake It, Not To Partake Thy Passion, My Humility.

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

The Friend Anguish Reveals Is The Slowest Forgot.

The Minister Today Preached About Death And Judgment, And What Would Become Of Those Who Behaved Improperly - And Somehow It Scared Me. He Preached Such An Awful Sermon I Didn't Think I Should Ever See You Again Until The Judgment Day. The Subject Of Perdition Seemed To Please Him Somehow.

I Had A Terror-since September -i Could Tell To None-and So I Sing, As The Boy Does By The Burying Ground-because I Am Afraid.