I Have Gone To The Forest.

What Will I Do When I Can No Longer Dig?

There Is Nothing Like Being Left Alone Again, To Walk Peacefully With Oneself In The Woods. To Boil One's Coffee And Fill One's Pipe, And To Think Idly And Slowly As One Does It.

The Heavy Red Roses Smoldering In The Foggy Morning, Blood-colored And Uninhibited, Made Me Greedy, And Tempted Me Powerfully To Steal One--i Asked The Prices Merely So I Could Come As Near Them As Possible.

Were I More Conversant With Literature And Its Great Names, I Could Go On Quoting Them Ad Infinitum And Acknowledge My Debt For The Merit You Have Been Generous Enough To Find In My Work

And Love Became The World's Origin And The World's Ruler, Yet Littered Its Path Is With Flowers And Blood, Flowers And Blood.