Where's The Need Of Singing Now?

Seizing The Swift Logic Of A Woman, Curse God And Die.

And Thus We All Are Nighing The Truth We Fear To Know: Death Will End Our Crying For Friends That Come And Go.

This Morning I Deleted The Hyphen From "hell-bound" And Made It One Word; This Afternoon I Redivided It And Restored The Hyphen.

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Love Must Have Wings To Fly Away From Love, And To Fly Back Again.