Tomorrow, More's The Pity, Away

White In The Moon The Long Road Lies.

His Folly Has Not Fellow Beneath The Blue Of Day That Gives To Man Or Woman His Heart And Soul Away.

The Fairies Break Their Dances And Leave The Printed Lawn.

Poetry Is Not The Thing Said, But The Way Of Saying It.

I Do Not Choose The Right Word, I Get Rid Of The Wrong One.