The Poet Lights The Light And Fades

To Lose What We Have Never Owned Might Seem An Eccentric Bereavement, But Presumption Has Its Own Affliction As Well As Claim.

Love Is Done When Loves Begun, Sages Say, But Have Sages Known?

A Sick Room Is At Times Too Sacred A Place For A Friend's Knock, Timid As That Is.

I Am Out With Lanterns, Looking For Myself.

They Say That 'home Is Where The Heart Is.' I Think It Is Where The House Is, And The Adjacent Buildings.