Twice I Have Lived Forever In A

So Far As I Am Concerned, Poetry And Every Other Art Was, Is, And Forever Will Be Strictly And Distinctly A Question Of Individuality.

And It's You Are Whatever A Moon Has Always Meant And Whatever A Sun Will Always Sing Is You

In Just - Spring When The World Is Mud- Luscious The Little Lame Balloonman Whistles Far And Wee

Spring Slattern Of Seasons You Have Soggy Legs And A Muddy Petticoat Drowsy Is Your Hair Your Eyes Are Sticky With Dream And You Have A Sloppy Body From Being Brought To Bed Of Crocuses When You Sing In Your Whisky Voice The Grass Rises On The Head Of The Earth And All The Trees Are Put On Edge Spring Of The Excellent Jostle Of Thy Hips And The Superior

And The Coolness Of Your Smile Is Stirringofbirds Between My Arms