My Altars Are The Mountains And The

A Pretty Woman Is A Welcome Guest.

Are Not The Mountains, Waves, And Skies As Much A Part Of Me, As I Of Them?

I Am The Very Slave Of Circumstance And Impulse Borne Away With Every Breath! Misplaced Upon The Throne Misplaced In Life. I Know Not What I Could Have Been, But Feel I Am Not What I Should Be Let It End.

And Hold Up To The Sun My Little Taper.

And I Would Hear Yet Once Before I Perish The Voice Which Was My Music... Speak To Me!