No, I'll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee

“No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,More pangs will, schooled …”

“Nothing is so beautiful as Spring-When weeds, in wheels, shoot long and lovely …”

“I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.”

“Why wouldst thou rude on me they wring-world right foot rock?”