The Loss Of Love Is A Terrible

Lord, Forgive Me If My Need Sometimes Shapes A Human Creed.

Africa? A Book One Thumbs Listlessly, Till Slumber Comes.

I Have A Rendezvous With Life.

Give But A Grain Of The Heart's Rich Seed, Confine Some Under Cover, And When Love Goes, Bid Him God-speed. And Find Another Lover.

Not For Myself I Make This Prayer, But For This Race Of Mine That Stretches Forth From Shadowed Places Dark Hands For Bread And Wine.