[history Is] That Terrible Mill In Which

[history Is] That Terrible Mill In Which Sawdust Rejoins Sawdust.

Winter Is The Time For Comfort, For Good Food And Warmth, For The Touch Of A Friendly Hand And For A Talk Beside The Fire: It Is The Time For Home.

It Is Part Of The Poet's Work To Show Each Man What He Sees But Does Not Know He Sees.

I'm Afraid I'm Being An Awful Nuisance.

The Poet Is A Brother Speaking To A Brother Of "a Moment Of Their Other Lives" - A Moment That Had Been Buried Beneath The Dust Of The Busy World.