A Poem Begins In Delight And Ends

What Is This Talked-of Mystery Of Birth. But Being Mounted Bareback On The Earth?

I Dwell With A Strangely Aching Heart In That Vanished Abode There Far Apart

Oh, Give Us Pleasure In The Flowers To-day; And Give Us Not To Think So Far Away As The Uncertain Harvest; Keep Us Here All Simply In The Springing Of The Year. Oh, Give Us Pleasure In The Orchard White, Like Nothing Else By Day, Like Ghosts By Night; And Make Us Happy In The Happy Bees, The Swarm Dilating Round The Perfect Trees.

I Am Sure I Have Heard This Several Times From Places I Can't Recall, But It's Not Already In The Gaia Quotes Database, So I Add This Profound Insight From The Fields Of Psychological Healing And Spiritual Evolution. It Sure Has Helped Me.

Scholars And Artists Thrown Together Are Often Annoyed At The Puzzle Of Where They Differ. Both Work From Knowledge; But I Suspectthey Differ Most Importantly In The Way Their Knowledge Is Come By. Scholars Get Theirs With Conscientious Thoroughness Along Projected Lines Of Logic; Poets Theirs Cavalierly And As It Happens In And Out Of Books. They Stick To Nothing Deliberately, But Let What Will Stick To Them Like Burrs Where They Walk In The Fields.