LIFE
Remorse is cureless,—the diseaseNot even God can heal;For’t is His institution,—The complement of hell.
LXX
THE body grows outside,—The more convenient way,—That if the spirit like to hide,Its temple stands alway
Ajar, secure, inviting;It never did betrayThe soul that asked its shelterIn timid honesty.
LXXI
UNDUE significance a starving man attachesTo foodFar off; he sighs, and therefore hopeless,And therefore good.
Partaken, it relieves indeed, but proves usThat spices flyIn the receipt. It was the distanceWas savory.
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