The Terrible Beast, That No One May

It Is Almost Impossible For The Poetess, Once Laurelled, To Take Off The Crown For Good Or To Reject Values And Taste Of Those Who Tender It.

O God, In The Dream The Terrible Horse Began To Paw At The Air, And Make For Me With His Blows.

A Thousand Kindnesses Do Not Make Up For A Thousand Blows.

At Midnight Tears Run Into Your Ears.

Poetry Is Often Generations In Advance Of The Thought Of Its Time.