Alone
In contact, lo! the flint and steel,
By sharp and flame, the thought reveal
That he the metal, she the stone,
Had cherished secretly alone.
Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.
You must not think me necessarily foolish because I am facetious, nor will I consider you necessarily wise because you…
The Trees The trees are coming into leaf, Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their…