The Sea Was Angry That Day My

The World Is Come Upon Me, I Used To Keep It A Long Way Off, But Now I Have Been Run Over And I Am In The Hands Of The Hospital Staff.

The Religion Of Christianity Is Mixed Of Sweetness And Cruelty Reject This Sweetness, For She Wears A Smoky Dress Out Of Hell Fires.

I Like To See Cats In Movement. A Galloping Cat Is A Fine Sight. See It Cross The Road In A Streak, Cursed By The Drivers Of Motor Cars And Buses, Dodging The Butcher's Bicycle, Coming Safe To The Kerb And Bellying Under Its Home Gate.

The Flower And Fruit Of Love Are Mine The Ant, The Fieldmouse And The Mole

Truth Is Far And Flat, And Fancy Is Fiery; And Truth Is Cold, And People Feel The Cold, And They May Wrap Themselves Against It In Fancies That Are Fiery, But They Should Not Call Them Facts; And, Generally, Poets Do Not; They Are Shrewd, They Feel The Cold, Too, But They Know A Hawk From A Handsaw, A Fact From A Fancy, As None Knows Better.