Stand Up During Supper And Walk Outdoors,

Strangely, I Heard A Stranger Say, I Am With You.

But You, Divine Poet, You Sang On Till The End As The Swarm Of Rejected Maenads Attacked You, Shrieking, You Overpowered Their Noise With Harmony, And From Pure Destruction Arose Your Transfigured Song.

In The Difficult Are The Friendly Forces, The Hands That Work On Us.

Often A Star Was Waiting For You To Notice It. A Wave Rolled Toward You Out Of The Distant Path, Or As You Walked Under An Open Window, A Violin Yielded Itself To Your Hearing. All This Was Mission.

Where I Create, There I Am True.