If We Tried To Sink The Past

Whoso Loves, Believes In The Impossible

The Essence Of All Beauty, I Call Love.

As The Moths Around A Taper, As The Bees Around A Rose, As The Gnats Around A Vapour, So The Spirits Group And Close Round About A Holy Childhood, As If Drinking Its Repose.

The World's Male Chivalry Has Perished Out, But Women Are Knights-errant To The Last; And, If Cervantes Had Been Greater Still, He Had Made His Don A Donna.

He's Just, Your Cousin, Ay, Abhorrently, He'd Wash His Hands In Blood, To Keep Them Clean.