I so want to immerse myself in soft velvet memories to
Cushion the jaggedness of present truths unwanted
Alas I fear my heart just will not stand the trip whole
I Mourn more than souls tonight I mourn existence ...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.