Earth Does Not Understand Her Child, Who

Where You Used To Be, There Is A Hole In The World, Which I Find Myself Constantly Walking Around In The Daytime, And Falling In At Night. I Miss You Like Hell.

This Have I Known Always: Love Is No More Than The Wide Blossom Which The Wind Assails, Than The Great Tide That Treads The Shifting Shore, Strewing Fresh Wreckage Gathered In The Gales; Pity Me That The Heart Is Slow To Learn, That The Swift Mind Beholds At Every Turn.

I Would I Were Alive Again To Kiss The Fingers Of The Rain, To Drink Into My Eyes The Shine Of Every Slanting Silver Line, To Catch The Freshened, Fragrant Breeze From Drenched And Dripping Apple-trees. For Soon The Shower Will Be Done, And Then The Broad Face Of The Sun Will Laugh Above The Rain-soaked Earth Until The World With Answering Mirth Shakes Joyously, And Each Round Drop Rolls Twinkling, From Its Grass-blade Top.

If Ever I Said In Grief Or Pride, I'd Tired Of Honest Things, I Lied.

Father, I Beg Of Thee A Little Task To Dignify My Days, 'tis All I Ask.