Youth Yearns To Youth, Full Blood Loves

Time In The Heart And Sequence In The Brain-- Such As Destroyed Rimbaud And Fooled Verlaine. And Let Us Then Take Godhead By The Neck-- And Strangle It, And With It, Rhetoric.

I Do Believe In This Evolution Of Consciousness As The Only Thing Which We Can Embark On, Or In Fact, Willy-nilly, Are Embarked On; And Along With That Will Go The Spiritual Discoveries And, I Feel, The Inexhaustible Wonder That One Feels, That Opens More And More The More You Know. It's Simply That This Increasing Knowledge Constantly Enlarges Your Kingdom And The Capacity For Admiring And Loving The Universe.

Poetry Will Absorb And Transmute, As It Always Has Done, And Glorify, All That We Can Know.

It Is Moonlight. Alone In The Silence I Ascend My Stairs Once More, While Waves Remote In Pale Blue Starlight Crash On A White Sand Shore. It Is Moonlight. The Garden Is Silent. I Stand In My Room Alone. Across My Wall, From The Far-off Moon, A Rain Of Fire Is Thrown. There Are Houses Hanging Above The Stars, And Stars Hung Under The Sea, And A Wind From The Long Blue Vault Of Time Waves My Curtains For Me. I Wait In The Dark Once More, Swung Between Space And Space: Before The Mirror I Lift My Hands And Face My Remembered Face.

All That Is Beautiful, And All That Looks On Beauty With Eyes Filled With Fire, Like A Lover's Eyes: All Of This Is Yours; You Gave It To Me, Sunlight! All These Stars Are Yours; You Gave Them To Me, Skies!