Beauty Without The Beloved Is

Unto The Man Of Yearning Thought And Aspiration, To Do Nought Is In Itself Almost An Act.

Places That Are Empty Of You Are Empty Of Life.

If God In His Wisdom Have Brought Closethe Day When I Must Die,that Day By Water Or Fire Or Airmy Feet Shall Fall In The Destined Snarewherever My Road May Lie.

Sudden Light I Have Been Here Before, But When Or How I Cannot Tell: I Know The Grass Beyond The Door, The Sweet Keen Smell, The Sighing Sound, The Light Around The Shore.

Still We Say As We Go,-"strange To Think By The Waywhatever There Is To Know,that Shall We Know One Day.