Beauty Without The Beloved Is A Like

Love Is The Last Relay And Ultimate Outposts Of Eternity.

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

Her Hair That Lay Along Her Back Was Yellow Like Ripe Corn.

If God In His Wisdom Have Brought Closethe Day When I Must Die,that Day By Water Or Fire Or Airmy Feet Shall Fall In The Destined Snarewherever My Road May Lie.

Tis Visible Silence, Still As The Hour-glass.