From '41 To '51i Was My Folk's

God Warms His Hands At Man's Heart When He Prays.

Life, A Beauty Chased By Tragic Laughter.

Each One Could Be A Jesus Mild, Each One Has Been A Little Child, A Little Child With Laughing Look, A Lovely White Unwritten Book; A Book That God Will Take, My Friend, As Each Goes Out At Journey's End.

There Are Few Earthly Things More Beautiful Than A University A Place Where Those Who Hate Ignorance May Strive To Know, Where Those Who Perceive Truth May Strive To Make Others See.

Since The Printing Press Came Into Being, Poetry Has Ceased To Be The Delight Of The Whole Community Of Man; It Has Become The Amusement And Delight Of The Few.