For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life
And strength and breath
And the want
Of thought is death

Then am I
A happy fly
If I live
Or if I die

This life's dim windows of the soulDistorts the heavens from pole to poleAnd leads you to believe a lieWhen you see with, not through, the eye.

I give thee what is most my own - A Dedication by Francis William Bourdillon

Some there be that shadow kiss; Such have but a shadow's bliss.

I wanted to write a poemthat you would understand.For what good is it to meif you can't understand it?

The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest— Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast.