The Mortal Sickness Of A Mind Too

Oh, 'tis Jesting, Dancing, Drinking Spins The Heavy World Around.

I, A Stranger And Afraid, In A World I Never Made.

Housman Is One Of My Heroes And Always Has Been. He Was A Detestable And Miserable Man. Arrogant, Unspeakably Lonely, Cruel, And So On, But And Absolutely Marvellous Minor Poet, I Think, And A Great Scholar.

When The Journey's Over/there'll Be Time Enough To Sleep.

Tell Me Not Here, It Needs Not Saying, What Tune The Enchantress Plays In Aftermaths Of Soft September Or Under Blanching Mays, For She And I Were Long Acquainted And I Knew All Her Ways.