For each ecstatic instantWe must an anguish payIn keen and quivering ratioTo the ecstasy.For each beloved hourSharp pittances of years,Bitter contested farthingsAnd coffers heaped with tears.

An ill heart, like a body, has its more comfortable days, and then its days of pain, its long relapse, when rallying requires more effort than to dissolve life, and death looks choiceless.

There is a pain – so utter – It swallows substance up – Then covers the Abyss with Trance – So Memory can step Around – across – opon it – As one within a Swoon – Goes safely – where an open eye – Would drop Him – Bone by Bone.

If I can stop one heart from breaking,I shall not live in vain;If I can ease one life the aching,Or cool one pain,Or help one fainting robinUnto his nest again,I shall not live in vain.

The heart asks pleasure first, And then, excuse from pain; And then, those little anodynes That deaden suffering; And then, to go to sleep; And then, if it should be The will of its Inquisitor, The liberty to die.

You left me boundaries of pain Capacious as the sea, Between eternity and time, Your consciousness and me.

Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it, Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee, Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it, Not to partake thy passion, my humility.