I Love You, What Star Do You

It's Time To Make Love, Douse The Glim; The Fireflies Twinkle And Dim; The Stars Lean Together Like Birds Of A Feather, And The Loin Lies Down With The Limb.

One Is Least Sure Of One's Self, Sometimes, When One Is Most Positive.

I Think There's An Enormous Lot Of Talent Around, And Somewhere Amongst These I'm Sure That Something Will Emerge, Given Time.

[at A Musical Concert:] . . . The Music's Pure Algebra Of Enchantment.

Oh, I've Discarded A Great Many [poems]. And Occasionally I've Discarded And Then Resurrected. I Would Find A Crumpled Yellow Ball Of Paper In The Wastebasket, In The Morning, And Open It To See What The Hell I'd Been Up To; And Occasionally It Was Something That Needed Only A Very Slight Change To Be Brought Off, Which I'd Missed The Day Before.