Life Is A Stream On Which We

Underneath My Stiffened Gown Is The Softness Of A Woman Bathing In A Marble Basin

I Must Be Mad, Or Very Tired, When The Curve Of A Blue Bay Beyond A Railroad Track Is Shrill And Sweet To Me Like The Sudden Springing Of A Tune, And The Sight Of A White Church Above Thin Trees In A City Square Amazes My Eyes As Though It Were The Parthenon.

You Are Ice And Fire The Touch Of You Burns My Hands Like Snow.

Can You See Through The Night, Woman, That You Stare So Upon It? Man, What Sparks Do Your Eyes Follow In The Smouldering Darkness?

May Is Much Sunshine Through Small Leaves.