What Is There In Thee,

Through The Sad Heart Of Ruth, When Sick For Home She Stood In Tears Amid The Alien Corn; The Same That Ofttimes Hath Charm'd Magic Casements, Opening On The Foam Of Perilous Seas, In Faery Lands Forlorn.

Land And Sea, Weakness And Decline Are Great Separators, But Death Is The Great Divorcer For Ever.

Much Have I Traveled In The Realms Of Gold, And Many Goodly States And Kingdoms Seen.

I Find I Cannot Exist Without Poetry

The Creature Has A Purpose, And His Eyes Are Bright With It.