But Childhood Prolonged, Cannot Remain A Fairyland.

The Poem Is Always The Last Resort. In It The Poet Makes A World In Little, And Finds Peace, Even Though, Under Complete Focused Emotion, The Evocation Be Far More Bitter Than Reality, Or Far More Lovely.

O Fortunate Bride, Who Never Again Will Become Elated After Childbirth! O Lucky Older Wife, Who Has Been Cured Of Feeling Unwanted!

The Measured Blood Beats Out The Year's Delay.

It Is Almost Impossible For The Poetess, Once Laurelled, To Take Off The Crown For Good Or To Reject Values And Taste Of Those Who Tender It.

The Terrible Beast, That No One May Understand, Came To My Side, And Put Down His Head In Love.