I Am Poor - Obscure

But The More Poetry One Reads The More One Longs To Read!

What Happiness It Is To Listen To Rain At Night; Joyful Relief, Ease; A Lapping-round And Hushing And Brooding Tenderness, All Are Mingled Together In The Sound Of The Fast-falling Rain. God, Looking Down Upon The Rainy Earth, Sees How Faint Are These Lights Shining In Little Windows, - How Easily Put Out.

What Is It With Me? Am I Absolutely Nobody, But Merely Inordinately Vain? I Do Not Know…. But I Am Most Fearfully Unhappy. That Is All. I Am So Unhappy That I Wish I Was Dead—yet I Should Be Mad To Die When I Have Not Yet Lived At All.

The Late Evening Is The Time Of Times. Then With That Unearthly Beauty Before One It Is Not Hard To Realise How Far One Has To Go. To Write Something That Will Be Worthy Of That Rising Moon, That Pale Light.

I Love This Place; I Love Mountains And Big Skies And Forests. And The Weather Is Still Supremely Beautiful Even Though The Lower Peaks Are Powdered With Fresh Snow. But Heavens! What Sun. It Never Has An Ending. I Am Basking At This Minute - Half Past Four - Too Hot Without A Hat, & The Sky Is That Transparent Blue Only To Be Seen In Autumn - The Forest Trees Steeped In Light.