I Love Humanity But I

You See, I Am A Poet, And Not Quite Right In The Head, Darling. It’s Only That.

The Heart Grows Weary After A Little Of What It Loved For A Little While.

Now The Autumn Shudders In The Rose's Root. Far And Wide The Ladders Lean Among The Fruit. Now The Autumn Clambers Up The Trellised Frame, And The Rose Remembers The Dust From Which It Came. Brighter Than The Blossom On The Rose's Bough Sits The Wizened Orange, Bitter Berry Now; Beauty Never Slumbers; All Is In Her Name; But The Rose Remembers The Dust From Which It Came.

Life Isn't One Thing After Another, It's The Same Thing Over And Over.

I Only Know That Summer Sang In Me A Little While, That In Me Sings No More.