Just Are The Ways Of Heaven; From

…but There They Lay, Sprawled Across The Field, Craved Far More By The Vultures Than By Wives.

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms

It Is The Bold Man Who Every Time Does Best, At Home Or Abroad.

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

It Is Equally Bad When One Speeds On The Guest Unwilling To Go, And When He Holds Back One Who Is Hastening. Rather One Should Befriend The Guest Who Is There, But Speed Him When He Wishes.