Thus In The Winter Stands The Lonely

I Am Not At All In Favor Of Hard Work For Its Own Sake; Many People Who Work Very Hard Indeed Produce Terrible Things, And Should Most Certainly Not Be Encouraged.

Catch From The Board Of Beauty/ Such Careless Crumbs As Fall.

O Troubled Forms, O Early Love Unfortunate And Hard, Time Has Estranged You Into A Jewel Cold And Pure

I Know I Am But Summer To Your Heart, And Not The Full Four Seasons Of The Year; And You Must Welcome From Another Part Such Noble Moods As Are Not Mine, My Dear. No Gracious Weight Of Golden Fruits To Sell Have I, Nor Any Wise And Wintry Thing; And I Have Loved You All Too Long And Well To Carry Still The High Sweet Breast Of Spring. Wherefore I Say: O Love, As Summer Goes, I Must Be Gone, Steal Forth With Silent Drums, That You May Hail Anew The Bird And Rose When I Come Back To You, As Summer Comes. Else Will You Seek, At Some Not Distant Time, Even Your Summer In Another Clime.

You See, I Am A Poet, And Not Quite Right In The Head, Darling. It’s Only That.