The End Is In The Beginning.

Every Phrase And Every Sentence Is An End And A Beginning, Every Poem An Epitaph.

Should I, After Tea And Cakes And Ices, Have The Strength To Force The Moment To Its Crisis?

Because I Know That Time Is Always Time And Place Is Always And Only Place.

Yet With These April Sunsets, That Somehow Recall My Buried Life, And Paris In The Spring, I Feel Immeasurably At Peace, And Find The World To Be Wonderful And Youthful Afterall

Here Between The Hither And The Farther Shore While Time Is Withdrawn, Consider The Future And The Past With An Equal Mind.