Life Death All Does End And Each

I Thought How Sadly Beauty Of Inscape Was Unknown And Buried Away From Simple People And Yet How Near At Hand It Was If They Had Eyes To See It And It Could Be Called Out Everywhere Again.

Searching Nature I Taste Self But At One Tankard, That Of My Own Being.

What Is All This Juice And All This Joy?

Beauty Is A Relation, And The Apprehension Of It A Comparison.

And The Headbonny Ash That Sits Over The Burn. What Would The World Be, Once Bereft Of Wet And Of Wildness? Let Them Be Left, O Let Them Be Left, Wildness And Wet: Long Live The Weeds And The Wilderness Yet.