Love Is The Last Relay And Ultimate

I Am Not As These Are, The Poet Saithin Youth's Pride, And The Painter, Among Menat Bay, Where Never Pencil Comes Nor Pem

Tis Visible Silence, Still As The Hour-glass.

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

Deep In The Sun-searched Growths The Dragonfly Hangs Like A Blue Thread Loosened From The Sky.

Places That Are Empty Of You Are Empty Of Life.