“The poet walked alone in a cold late rain,
And thought his grief was like the crying of sea-birds;
For his lover was dead, he never would love again.”

“For now the poet can not die,
Nor leave his music as of old,
But round him ere he scarce be cold
Begins the scandal and the cry.”

“The Queen's Pride was his ship, and he loved her. (That was the way his sentences always went: It is raining today and I love you. My cold is better and I love you. Say hello to Horse and I love you. Like that.)”

“I watch the boats go by
As the evening colours of the sand
The rain is bringing tears
From my lover's land
I watch the silver stars
melt in love with the sea
I cry to the wind:
– Bring back my lover to me!”

“The Farmer will never be happy again;
He carries his heart in his boots;
For either the rain is destroying his grain
Or the drought is destroying his roots.”

“The boat that took my love away
He sent again to me
To tell me that he would not sleep
Alone beneath the sea.”

“I love walking in the rain because no one can see me crying”

“No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists. You cannot value him alone; you must set him, for contrast and comparison, among the dead. I mean this as a principle of æsthetic, not merely historical, criticism.”

“He looked up from it at the stars again, and the view was warped and distorted by something in his eyes, which at first he thought was rain.”

“I am the bond slave of my devotee. I love devotion. He who withdraws his heart from the world and loves me is my true lover and he merges in Me like a river in the sea.”