Do Ye Hear The Children Weeping, O

As The Moths Around A Taper, As The Bees Around A Rose, As The Gnats Around A Vapour, So The Spirits Group And Close Round About A Holy Childhood, As If Drinking Its Repose.

And Chaucer, With His Infantine Familiar Clasp Of Things Divine.

You Were Made Perfectly To Be Loved - And Surely I Have Loved You, In The Idea Of You, My Whole Life Long.

It Was Not The Apple On The Tree But The Pair On The Ground That Caused The Trouble In The Garden Of Eden.

Eyes Of Gentianellas Azure, Staring, Winking At The Skies.