Needs There Groan A World In Anguish

Generations Pass While Some Tree Stands, And Old Families Last Not Three Oaks.

My Care Is For Myself; Myself Am Whole And Sole Reality.

Truth Never Hurt The Teller.

Kiss Me As If You Made Believe You Were Not Sure This Eve, How My Face, Your Flower, Had Pursed It's Petals Up.

And Inasmuch As Feeling, The East's Gift, Is Quick And Transient,- Comes, And Lo! Is Gone, While Northern Thought Is Slow And Durable.