The Air Is All Softness.

Talking Of Pleasure, This Moment I Was Writing With One Hand, And With The Other Holding To My Mouth A Nectarine - How Good How Fine. It Went Down All Pulpy, Slushy, Oozy, All Its Delicious Embonpoint Melted Down My Throat Like A Large, Beatified Strawberry.

The Feel Of Not To Feel It, When There Is None To Heal It Nor Numbed Sense To Steel It.

O Latest Born And Loveliest Vision Far Of All Olympus' Faded Hierarchy.

In The Long Vista Of The Years To Roll,\ Let Me Not See My Country's Honor Fade;\ Oh! Let Me See Our Land Retain Its Soul!\ Her Pride In Freedom, And Not Freedom's Shade.

I Would Sooner Fail Than Not Be Among The Greatest.