And In That Heaven Of All Their

There Are Only Three Things In The World, One Is To Read Poetry, Another Is To Write Poetry, And The Best Of All Is To Live Poetry.

Mud Unto Mud!--death Eddies Near-- Not Here The Appointed End, Not Here! But Somewhere, Beyond Space And Time, Is Wetter Water, Slimier Slime!

All The Little Emptiness Of Love!

And I Shall Find Some Girl Perhaps, And A Better One Than You, With Eyes As Wise, But Kindlier, And Lips As Soft, But True, And I Dare Say She Will Do.

I Have A Thousand Images Of You In An Hour; All Different And All Coming Back To The Same. I Think Of You Once Against A Sky Line: And On The Hill That Sunday Morning. The Light And The Shadow And Quietness And The Rain And The Wood. And You. Your Arms And Lips And Hair And Shoulders And Voice - You.