I Wonder More And More Just Where

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Language That Tells Us, Through A More Or Less Emotional Reaction, Something That Can Not Be Said.

Ah, When Shall Come Love's Courage To Be Strong! Tell Me, O Lord--tell Me, O Lord, How Long Are We To Keep Christ Writhing On The Cross!

To Some Will Come A Time When Change Itself Is Beauty, If Not Heaven.

I Cannot Find My Way: There Is No Star In All The Shrouded Heavens Anywhere