A Bird Who Can Gobble Is Qualified

I Sing, Not To Hear The Echo Repeat, A Shade Fainter, My Song! I Think Of Light And Not Of Glory! Singing Is My Fashion Of Waging War And Bearing Witness. And If My Song Is The Proudest Of Songs, It Is That I Sing Clearly To Make The Day Rise Clear!

Take It, And Turn To Facts My Fantasies.

My Heart Always Timidly Hides Itself Behind My Mind. I Set Out To Bring Down Stars From The Sky, Then, For Fear Of Ridicule, I Stop And Pick Little Flowers Of Eloquence.

And If Kisses In These Words Could Travel Too, Madam, You'd Read This Letter With Your Lips.

Stay Awhile! 'tis Sweet,. . . The Rare Occasion, When Our Hearts Can Speak Our Selves Unseen, Unseeing!