I therefore let the dead bury their dead,
And like a buzzing bee in quest of flowers
I seek the flowers of life that gladly yield
The sap that love distills to joy—that joy
That is much sweeter than the sweetest honey.
THE CLOUD
There hovers over me a muddy cloud,
Enveloping me in its gloomy shadow,
That dims the native sunshine of my heart,
That dulls the keen perception of the mind,