When I Go Away From You The

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.

Rapture's Self Is Three Parts Sorrow.

Life Is A Stream On Which We Strew Petal By Petal The Flower Of Our Heart; The End Lost In Dream, They Float Past Our View, We Only Watch Their Glad, Early Start. Freighted With Hope, Crimsoned With Joy, We Scatter The Leaves Of Our Opening Rose; Their Widening Scope, Their Distant Employ, We Never Shall Know. And The Stream As It Flows Sweeps Them Away, Each One Is Gone Ever Beyond Into Infinite Ways. We Alone Stay While Years Hurry On, The Flower Fared Forth, Though Its Fragrance Still Stays.

To Understand Vers Libre, One Must Abandon All Desire To Find In It The Even Rhythm Of Metrical Feet. One Must Allow The Lines To Flow As They Will When Read Aloud By An Intelligent Reader.

Underneath My Stiffened Gown Is The Softness Of A Woman Bathing In A Marble Basin, A Basin In The Midst Of Hedges Grown So Thick, She Cannot See Her Lover Hiding, But She Guesses He Is Near, And The Sliding Of The Water Seems The Stroking Of A Dear Hand Upon Her.