Why ask if love is true, or walks
Clothed with the sun's invention?
Why inquire if a fool can sing
What proves the flower's intention-
For this thing that follows you stalks
The days and nights apprehension
Nor soothed of boring platitudes that sprang
But coarse truth, for consumption:
For the grave which has stolen every thing..
lyrical and stirring lines... somewhere in the depths of the mind