There Is No Peace To Be Taken

I Think That I Shall Never See A Poem Lovely As A Tree. A Tree Whose Hungry Mouth Is Prest Against The Earth's Sweet Flowing Breast.

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

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

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.

There Is No Place In Which To Hide When Age Comes Seeking For His Bride.