No One Knows, The Heart Of A

I Had Drawn Away Into The Salt, Myself, A Shell Emptied Of Life.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

Love Is A Garment Riven In The Light That Rises From Parnassus, Showing The Night Is Over.

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

No One Knows The Colour Of A Flower Till It Is Broken.