O Sweet Clean Earth, From Whom The

It's Time To Make Love, Douse The Glim; The Fireflies Twinkle And Dim; The Stars Lean Together Like Birds Of A Feather, And The Loin Lies Down With The Limb.

The Wind Shrieks, The Wind Grieves; It Dashes The Leaves On Walls, It Whirls Then Again; And The Enormous Sleeper Vaguely And Stupidly Dreams And Desires To Stir, To Resist A Ghost Of Pain.

We Were All Born Of Flesh, In A Flare Of Pain. We Do Not Remember The Red Roots Whence We Rose, But We Know That We Rose And Walked, That After A While We Shall Lie Down Again.

Life Is The Thing--the Song Of Life-- The Eager Plow, The Thirsty Knife!

I Think It's Very Useful To Be Insulated From Your Surrounds, Because It Gives You Your Inviolate Privacy, Without Pressures, So That You Can Just Be Yourself.