All That I Am Hangs By A

Your Voice Is Wild And Simple. You Are Untranslatable Into Any One Tongue.

... He Is Rewarded With A Form Of Eternal Childhood, With The Bounty And Vigilance Of The Stars, The Whole World Was His Inheritance And He Shared It With Everyone.

Forgive Me, That I Manage Badly, Manage Badly But Live Gloriously, That I Leave Traces Of Myself In My Songs, That I Appeared To You In Waking Dreams.

All Has Been Looted, Betrayed, Sold; Black Death's Wing Flashed Ahead.

Flowers, Cold From The Dew, And Autumn's Approaching Breath, I Pluck For The Warm, Luxuriant Braids, Which Haven't Faded Yet. In Their Nights, Fragrantly Resinous, Entwined With Delightful Mystery, They Will Breathe In Her Springlike Extraordinary Beauty. But In A Whirlwind Of Sound And Fire, From Her Shing Head They Will Flutter And Fall—and Before Her They Will Die, Faintly Fragrant Still. And, Impelled By Faithful Longing, My Obedient Gaze Will Feast Upon Them— With A Reverent Hand, Love Will Gather Their Rotting Remains.