I thought no one could hate me more than myself
But I forgot I had my mother.
So now I’ve made six flashcards for the most ever occurring moods of hers.
One is when she curses the day I was born.
...
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.