A Drainless Shower Of Light

Joy, Whose Hand Is Ever At His Lips, Bidding Adieu

Love In A Hut, With Water And A Crust, Is - Love, Forgive Us! - Cinders, Ashes, Dust.

I Equally Dislike The Favor Of The Public With The Love Of A Woman - They Are Both A Cloying Treacle To The Wings Of Independence.

Give Me Books, French Wine, Fruit, Fine Weather And A Little Music Played Out Of Doors By Somebody I Do Not Know.

I Will Imagine You Venus Tonight And Pray, Pray, Pray To Your Star Like A Heathen.