Portraits Are To Daily Faces As An

Victory Comes Late-- And Is Held Low To Freezing Lips-- Too Rapt With Frost To Take It

Phosphorescence. Now There's A Word To Lift Your Hat To... To Find That Phosphorescence, That Light Within, That's The Genius Behind Poetry.

Forever - Is Composed Of Nows - 'tis Not A Different Time... Let Months Dissolve In Further Months - And Years - Exhale In Years.

So Instead Of Getting To Heaven, At Last - I’m Going, All Along.

A Word That Breathes Distinctly Has Not The Power To Die