If Your Heart Is A

Out Of My Deeper Heart A Bird Rose And Flew Skywards. Higher And Higher Did It Rise, Yet Larger And Larger Did It Grow. At First It Was But Like A Swallow, Then A Lark, Then An Eagle, Then As Vast As A Spring Cloud, And Then It Filled The Starry Heavens. Out Of My Heart A Bird Flew Skywards. And It Waxed Larger As It Flew. Yet It Left Not My Heart.

The Poet Is A Bird Of Strange Moods. He Descends From His Lofty Domain To Tarry Among Us, Singing; If We Do Not Honor Him He Will Unfold His Wings And Fly Back To His Dwelling Place.

What Difference Is There Between Us, Save A Restless Dream That Follows My Soul But Fears To Come Near You?

There Are Those Who Give And Know Not Pain In Giving, Nor Do They Seek Joy, Nor Give With Mindfulness Of Virtue; They Give As In Yonder Valley The Myrtle Breathes Its Fragrance Into Space.

I Wash My Hands Of Those Who Imagine Chattering To Be Knowledge, Silence To Be Ignorance, And Affection To Be Art.