There Is No Peace To Be Taken

In Memoriam: Florence Nightingale She Whom We Love, Our Lady Of Compassion, Can Never Die, For Love Forbids Her Death. Love Has Bent Down In His Old Kindly Fashion, And Breathed Upon Her His Immortal Breath. On Wounded Soldiers, In Their Anguish Lying, Her Gentle Spirit Shall Descend Like Rain. Where The White Flag With The Red Cross Is Flying, There Shall She Dwell, The Vanquisher Of Pain.

For Nothing Keeps A Poet In His High Singing Mood Like Unappeasable Hunger For Unattainable Food.

I Think That I Shall Never See A Poem Lovely As A Tree.

The Air Is Like A Butterfly With Frail Blue Wings. The Happy Earth Looks At The Sky And Sings.

The Only Reason A Road Is Good As Every Wanderer Knows / Is Just Because Of The Homes, The Homes, The Homes To Which One Goes