Emotions and Feelings

Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.

Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air.

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice.

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.

And nothing to look backward to with pride, And nothing to look forward to with hope.

It’s a very odd thing— As odd as can be— That whatever Miss T. eats Turns into Miss T.

Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday.

Nought but vast sorrow was there— The sweet cheat gone.

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart.” 1

In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, “Is it good, friend?” “It is bitter—bitter,” he answered; “But I like it “Because it is bitter, “And because it is my heart.” 1

Should the wide world roll away Leaving black terror Limitless night, Nor God, nor man, nor place to stand Would be to me essential If thou and thy white arms were there And the fall to doom a long way.

I’m tired of Love: I’m still more tired of Rhyme. But Money gives me pleasure all the time.

Here richly, with ridiculous display, The Politician’s corpse was laid away. While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.

Hear me, ambitious souls, Sex is the curse of life!

A great nose indicates a great man— Genial, courteous, intellectual, Virile, courageous.

Bird sighs for the air, Thought for I know not where, For the womb the seed sighs. Now sinks the same rest On mind, on nest, On straining thighs.

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, And say my glory was I had such friends.

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends, And say my glory was I had such friends.

You think it horrible that lust and rage Should dance attention upon my old age; They were not such a plague when I was young; What else have I to spur me into song?

Their eyes mid many wrinkles, their eyes, Their ancient, glittering eyes, are gay.

I pray—for fashion’s word is out And prayer comes round again— That I may seem, though I die old, A foolish, passionate man.

I carry the sun in a golden cup, The moon in a silver bag. 8