The Defeat of Youth and Other Poems

I am mine no more: I have become a part
Of that great earth that draws a breath and stirs
To meet the spring. But I could wish my heart
Were still a winter of frosty gossamers.

COMPLAINT OF A POET MANQUÉ
e judge by appearance merely:
If I can't think strangely, I can at least look queerly.

And I'm not a poet: but never despair!
I'll madly live the poems I shall never write.