There's A Black Rose Growing In Your

In My Garden The Winds Have Beaten The Ripe Lilies; In My Garden, The Salt Has Wilted The First Flakes Of Young Narcissus.

...if You Do Not Even Understand What Words Say, How Can You Expect To Pass Judgement On What Words Conceal?

When You Would Think, "what Was The Use Of It," You'll Remember Something You Can't Grasp And You'll Wonder What It Was.

That Way Of Inspiration Is Always Open, And Open To Everyone; It Acts As Go-between, Interpreter, It Explains Symbols Of The Past In To-day's Imagery.

Until It Seems The Whole City Will Be Covered With Gold Pollen Shaken From The Bell-towers, Lilies Plundered With The Weight Of Massive Bees . . .