The Flower That Once Has Blown Forever

The Thoughtful Soul To Solitude Retires.

Dust Into Dust, And Under Dust To Lie, Sans Wine, Sans Song, Sans Singer, And-sans End!

Alas, That Spring Should Vanish With The Rose! That Youths Sweet-scented Manuscript Should Close!

There Was A Door To Which I Found No Key: There Was The Veil Through Which I Might Not See.

In Monasteries, Seminaries, Retreats And Synagogues, They Fear Hell And Seek Paradise. Those Who Know The Mysteries Of God Never Let That Seed Be Planted In Their Souls.