In The Swirling Rain That Came At

A Very Little Boy Stood Upon A Heap Of Gravel For The Honour Of Rum Alley. He Was Throwing Stones At Howling Urchins From Devil's Row, Who Were Circling Madly About The Heap And Pelting Him. His Infantile Countenance Was Livid With The Fury Of Battle. His Small Body Was Writhing In The Delivery Of Oaths.

When The Prophet, A Complacent Fat Man, Arrived At The Mountain-top He Cried: "woe To My Knowledge! I Intended To See Good White Lands And Bad Black Lands— But The Scene Is Grey.

I Saw A Man Pursuing The Horizon

Unwind My Riddle.cruel As Hawks The Hours Fly;wounded Men Seldom Come Home To Die;the Hard Waves See An Arm Flung High;scorn Hits Strong Because Of A Lie;yet There Exists A Mystic Tie.unwind My Riddle.

When It Occurs To A Man That Nature Does Not Regard Him As Important, And That She Feels She Would Not Maim The Universe By Disposing Of Him, He At First Wishes To Throw Bricks At The Temple, And He Hates Deeply The Fact That There Are No Bricks And No Temples.