Your Voice And Music Are The Same

Veels Vithin Veels, A Prison In A Prison.

You May Be An Undigested Bit Of Beef, A Blot Of Mustard, A Crumb Of Cheese, A Fragment Of Underdone Potato. There's More Of Gravy Than Of Grave About You, Whatever You Are!

The Water Of The Fountain Ran, The Swift River Ran, The Day Ran Into Evening, So Much Life In The City Ran Into Death According To Rule, Time And Tide Waited For No Man, The Rats Were Sleeping Close Together In Their Dark Holes Again, The Fancy Ball Was Lighted Up At Supper, All Things Ran Their Course.

And It Was Not Until I Began To Think, That I Began Fully To Know How Wrecked I Was, And How The Ship In Which I Had Sailed Was Gone To Pieces.

It Was A Cold Hard Easterly Morning When He Latched The Garden Gate And Turned Away. The Light Snowfall Which Had Feathered His Schoolroom Windows On The Thursday, Still Lingered In The Air, And Was Falling White, While The Wind Blew Black.