Happiness, To Some, Elation; Is, To Others,

Rapture's Self Is Three Parts Sorrow.

I Never Deny Poems When They Come; Whatever I Am Doing, Whatever I Am Writing, I Lay It Aside And Attend To The Arriving Poem.

Can You See Through The Night, Woman, That You Stare So Upon It? Man, What Sparks Do Your Eyes Follow In The Smouldering Darkness?

Underneath My Stiffened Gown Is The Softness Of A Woman Bathing In A Marble Basin

Guarded Within The Old Red Wall's Embrace, Marshalled Like Soldiers In Gay Company, The Tulips Stand Arrayed. Here Infantry Wheels Out Into The Sunlight.