Pain Has An Element Of Blank

The Poet Lights The Light And Fades Away. But The Light Goes On And On.

I Confess That I Love Him, I Rejoice That I Love Him, I Thank The Maker Of Heaven And Earth That Gave Him To Me. The Exultation Floods Me.

As Summer Into Autumn Slips And Yet We Sooner Say "the Summer" Than "the Autumn," Lest We Turn The Sun Away, And Almost Count It An Affront The Presence To Concede Of One However Lovely, Not The One That We Have Loved - So We Evade The Charge Of Years On One Attempting Shy The Circumvention Of The Shaft Of Life's Declivity.

There Is No Frigate Like A Book

Exultation Is The Going Of An Inland Soul To Sea Past The Houses, Past The Headlands Into Deep Eternity! Bred As We, Among The Mountains Can The Sailor Understand The Divine Intoxication Of The First League Out From Land?