Apart From The Desire To Produce Beautiful

Forgetfulness Of Grief I Yet May Gain;in Some Wise May Come Ending To My Pain;it May Be Yet The Gods Will Have Me Glad!yet, Love, I Would That Thee And Pain I Had!

The Heart Desires, The Hand Refrains. The Godhead Fires, The Soul Attains.

In Prison Wearily, Drearily, Half The Day Long, Flap The Great Banners High Over The Stone; Strangely And Eerily Sounds The Wind's Song, Bending The Banner-poles. While, All Alone, Watching The Loophole's Spark, Lie I, With Life All Dark, Feet Tethered, Hands Fettered Fast To The Stone, The Grim Walls, Square Lettered With Prisoned Men's Groan. Still Strain The Banner-poles Through The Wind's Song, Westward The Banner Rolls Over My Wrong.

I Am Going Your Way, So Let Us Go Hand In Hand. You Help Me And I'll Help You. We Shall Not Be Here Very Long ... So Let Us Help One Another While We May.

A World Made To Be Lost, - A Bitter Life 'twixt Pain And Nothing Tost.