The valentine day has pass'd away,
and I am still thinking of you;
that by night with moon be spent
what all eyes before the sun,
...
Each time I bring to thee thy face anew,
And from out of world's chaos of cosmos;
But by the sun arise in early morn,
That not a star is hid by veil of night;
...
(On the writings of Mary Shelley & Rosicrucians)
All that is in the world
of love's long diminish'd sense of Being;
...
The final doom of poetry
hath come to an end
in today's age;
when all can see
...
Wherefore oft thy rhyming feet are decked ashore,
That many moons ago I hath tread without thee;
And not least Sun's eye can e'er underscore
What still lies beneath world's unfolding sea:
...
Or how else you dwell in mine eye,
that in season's breathless rhyme
you fill my waking hour;
and what in my verse I can ne'er reveal,
...
There stands the cloud of a hundred shadows o'er my head,
That by the nighsky her seraph wings unfold;
And I can ne'er know where gone are the days
Of happy hours, each moment in waste hands of time,
...
I'll write, I'll write thee more so
what is hid from thine eye,
and all things of beauty, great and small,
are in the world of a vanished sight;
...
Where but in my heart you dwell,
at a supreme seat of emotions,
oft express'd in words
by a sensibility of love;
...
Of sweet-scented silence in the mellowing year of spring,
That from summer's eve to season's breathless rhyme;
Oft I beget from high heavens along pen-pricked angels,
So sweetly wed to my thought by the crow's quill, my mind,
...