Without Poetry The Soul And Heart Of

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

Fifteen Millions Of Soldiers With Popguns And Horses All Bent Upon Killing, Because Their "of Courses" Are Not Quite The Same.

Lilacs, False Blue, White, Purple, Colour Of Lilac, Your Great Puffs Of Flowers Are Everywhere In This My New England ... Lilacs In Dooryards Holding Quiet Conversation With An Early Moon; Lilacs Watching A Deserted House; ... Lilacs, Wind-beaten, Staggering Under A Lopsided Shock Of Bloom, You Are Everywhere.

The Stigma Of Oddness Is The Price A Myopic World Always Exacts Of Genius.

So With The Stretch Of The White Road Before Me, Shining Snow Crystals Rainbowed By The Sun, Fields That Are White, Stained With Long, Cool, Blue Shadows, Strong With The Strength Of My Horse As We Run. Joy In The Touch Of The Wind And The Sunlight! Joy! With The Vigorous Earth I Am One.