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'I've a pain in my head'
Said the suffering Beckford;
To her Doctor so dread.
'Oh! what shall I take for't?'

Said this Doctor so dread
Whose name it was Newnham.
'For this pain in your head
Ah! What can you do...

He stands, arms folded,
the forest alive around him.
Sunlight filters through the green,
but he's calm, rooted,
like he belongs here.

Maybe he's thinking,
maybe just breathing,
but in this moment,
he's part of...

You made that night my best,
Under the shade of a leafless tree,
We stood out among the rest,
With sweet laughs of love,
Lovingly we strolled abreast,
The world we owned and ruled.
As lips tangled here and there
The shy...

Come live with me, and be my love;
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By...

Words, words, I play with words
hoping that some combination—
even a chance combination—
will say what I want.
What's left unsaid
will always find a way
to scream.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound...

Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as...

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint...

The humble carpet brush 
sweeps away
cigarette ash, 
    moth scales, 
    dried tears,
and angel dust.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little...

"You made me act
that way," he says.

"If you didn't say that,
I wouldn't have done it to you.'

"I'm sorry.
I didn't mean to."

Look—
I hit you,
but you just made
me so...