Take Bread Away From Me, If You

O Happy Childhood! Blessed Youth! But Once We Know Thy Potent Power; But Once We Live All Careless Free; No Cross To Mar Our Love-lit Bower.

Tomorrow We Will Only Give Them A Leaf Of The Tree Of Our Love, A Leaf Which Will Fall On The Earth Like If It Had Been Made By Our Lips Like A Kiss Which Falls From Our Invincible Heights To Show The Fire And The Tenderness Of A True Love.

Who Do I Belong To? How Come I Mortgaged My Being Till I Don't Belong To Myself? How Come I Sold My Blood? And Who Now Owns My Indecisions, My Hands, My Private Pain, My Pride?

I Love All Things, Not Only The Grand But The Infinitely Small: Thimble, Spurs, Plates, Flower Vases.

Poetry Is An Act Of Peace.