To Follow The Drops Sliding From A

And I Rejoiced In Being What I Was.

The Damage Of Teaching: The Constant Contact With The Undeveloped.

Long Live The Weeds That Overwhelm My Narrow Vegetable Realm! The Bitter Rock, The Barren Soil That Force The Son Of Man To Toil; All Things Unholy, Marred By Curse, The Ugly Of The Universe.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.

The Indignity Of It!- With Everything Blooming Above Me, Lilies, Pale-pink Cyclamen, Roses, Whole Fields Lovely And Inviolate,- Me Down In The Fetor Of Weeds, Crawling On All Fours, Alive, In A Slippery Grave.