“My soul is a broken field, plowed by pain.”

“It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.”

“This is the spot where I will lie When life has had enough of me, These are the grasses that will blow Above me like a living sea.These gay old lilies will not shrink To draw their life from death of mine, And I will give my body's fire To make blue flowers on this vine."O Soul," I said, "have you no tears? Was not the body dear to you?" I heard my soul say carelessly, "The myrtle flowers will grow more blue.”

“Until I lose my soul and lie Blind to the beauty of the earth, Deaf though shouting wind goes by, Dumb in a storm of mirth;Until my heart is quenched at length And I have left the land of men, Oh, let me love with all my strength Careless if I am loved again.”

“I would not have a god come in To shield me suddenly from sin, And set my house of life to rights; Nor angels with bright burning wings Ordering my earthly thoughts and things; Rather my own frail guttering lights Wind blown and nearly beaten out; Rather the terror of the nights And long, sick groping after doubt; Rather be lost than let my soul Slip vaguely from my own control -- Of my own spirit let me be In sole though feeble mastery.”

“When I am dead, and over me bright AprilShakes out her rain drenched hair,Tho you should lean above me broken hearted,I shall not care.For I shall have peace.As leafey trees are peacefulWhen rain bends down the bough.And I shall be more silent and cold heartedThan you are now”

“From my spirit's gray defeat, From my pulse's flagging beat, From my hopes that turned to sand Sifting through my close-clenched hand, From my own fault's slavery, If I can sing, I still am free.For with my singing I can make A refuge for my spirit's sake, A house of shining words, to be My fragile immortality.”