In Your Arms Was Still Delight, Quiet

Down The Blue Night The Unending Columns Press In Noiseless Tumult, Break And Wave And Flow

But There's Wisdom In Women, Of More Than They Have Known, And Thoughts Go Blowing Through Them, Are Wiser Than Their Own.

Mud Unto Mud!--death Eddies Near-- Not Here The Appointed End, Not Here! But Somewhere, Beyond Space And Time, Is Wetter Water, Slimier Slime!

I Have A Thousand Images Of You In An Hour; All Different And All Coming Back To The Same. I Think Of You Once Against A Sky Line: And On The Hill That Sunday Morning. The Light And The Shadow And Quietness And The Rain And The Wood. And You. Your Arms And Lips And Hair And Shoulders And Voice - You.

Stands The Church Clock At Ten To Three? And Is There Honey Still For Tea?