I have had worse partings, but none that so Gnaws at my mind still.

Tempt me no more, for I Have known the lightning's hour, The poet's inward pride, The certainty of power.

They who in folly or mere greed Enslaved religion, markets, laws, Borrow our language now and bid Us to speak up in freedom's cause.

Who will say farewell? The beating bell. Will anyone miss me? That I dare not tell - Quick, Rose, and kiss me.

Goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are. I hope so

Love doesn't go away because we want it to, but remains even when it becomes a searing pain, leaving the heart a desert of bitter remorse and grief for joy, a …

Tell him I lingered alone on the shore, Where we parted, in sorrow, to meet nevermore; The night-wind blew cold on my desolate heart But colder those wild word…