Herds Of Reindeer Move Across Miles And

One Cannot Walk Through An Assembly Factory And Not Feel That One Is In Hell.

For Time Is Inches And The Heart's Changes, Where Ghost Has Haunted Lost And Wanted.

The Parlour Cars And Pullmans Are Packed Also With Scented Assassins, Salad-eaters Who Murder On Milk.

Without Communication With The Dead, A Fully Human Life Is Not Possible.

Beauty, Midnight, Vision Dies: Let The Winds Of Dawn That Blow Softly Round Your Dreaming Head Such A Day Of Welcome Show Eye And Knocking Heart May Bless, Find Our Mortal World Enough; Noons Of Dryness Find You Fed By The Involuntary Powers, Nights Of Insult Let You Pass Watched By Every Human Love.