A Shady Friend For Torrid Days Is

You Ask Of My Companions. Hills, Sir, And The Sundown, And A Dog As Large As Myself.

Then, As Horizons Step, Or Noons Report Away,without The Formula Of Sound, It Passes, And We Stay:a Quality Of Loss Affecting Our Content.

Forever Is Comprised Of Nows.

As Summer Into Autumn Slips And Yet We Sooner Say "the Summer" Than "the Autumn," Lest We Turn The Sun Away, And Almost Count It An Affront The Presence To Concede Of One However Lovely, Not The One That We Have Loved - So We Evade The Charge Of Years On One Attempting Shy The Circumvention Of The Shaft Of Life's Declivity.

A Little Madness In The Spring Is Wholesome Even For The King, But God Be With The Clown, Who Ponders This Tremendous Scene-- This Whole Experiment In Green, As If It Were His Own!