After The Feet Of Beauty Fly My

Into The Darkness They Go, The Wise And The Lovely.

Gently They Go, The Beautiful, The Tender, The Kind; Quietly They Go, The Intelligent, The Witty, The Brave. I Know. But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.

The Englishman Foxtrots As He Fox-hunts, With All His Being, Through Thickets, Through Ditches, Over Hedges, Through Chiffons, Through Waiters, Over Saxophones, To The Victorious Finish; And Who Goes Home Depends On How Many The Ambulance Will Accommodate.

How Strange A Thing Is Death, Bringing To His Knees, Bringing To His Antlers The Buck In The Snow . . . Life, Looking Out Attentive From The Eyes Of The Doe.

I Know, But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.