You May Tire Of Reality

Anne Came Dancing Home In The Purple Winter Twilight Across The Snowy Places.

It Was Rapture Enough Just To Sit There Beside Him In Silence, Alone In The Summer Night In The White Splendor Of Moonshine, With The Wind Blowing Down On Them Out Of The Pine Woods.

Walter's Eyes Were Very Wonderful. All The Joy And Sorrow And Laughter And Loyalty And Aspirations Of Many Generations Lying Under The Sod Looked Out Of Their Dark-gray Depths.

Their Happiness Was In Each Others Keeping, And Both Were Unafraid.

Nothing Mattered Much To Me For A Time There, After You Told Me You Could Never Love Me, Anne. There Was Nobody Else -- There Never Could Be Anybody Else For Me But You. I've Loved You Ever Since That Day You Broke Your Slate Over My Head In School.