Still Falls The Rain - Dark As

I Wouldn't Dream Of Following A Fashion... How Could One Be A Different Person Every Three Months?

Said The Sun To The Moon-'when You Are But A Lonely White Crone, And I, A Dead King In My Golden Armour Somewhere In A Dark Wood, Remember Only This Of Our Hopeless Love That Never Till Time Is Done Will The Fire Of The Heart And The Fire Of The Mind Be One

The Poet Speaks To All Men Of That Other Life Of Theirs That They Have Smothered And Forgotten.

If Certain Critics And Poetasters Had Their Way, 'ordinary Piety' And Its Child, Dullness, Would Be The Masters Of Poetry.

Still Falls The Rain - Dark As The World Of Man, Black As Our Loss - Blind As The Nineteen Hundred And Forty Nails Upon The Cross.