Kissing Don't Last: Cookery Do!

Earth, The Mother Of All, Moves On Her Stedfast Way, Gathering, Flinging, Sowing. Mortals, We Live In Her Day, She In Her Children Is Growing.

I Expect Woman Will Be The Last Thing Civilized By Man.

I Know Him, February's Thrush, And Loud At Eve He Valentines On Sprays That Paw The Naked Bush Where Soon Will Sprout The Thorns And Bines.

Not Till The Fire Is Dying In The Grate, Look We For Any Kinship With The Stars.

Sunrays, Leaning On Our Southern Hills And Lighting Wild Cloud-mountains That Drag The Hills Along, Oft Ends The Day Of Your Shifting Brilliant Laughter Chill As A Dull Face Frowning On A Song. Ay, But Shows The South-west A Ripple-feathered Bosom Blown To Silver While The Clouds Are Shaken And Ascend Scaling The Mid-heavens As They Stream, There Comes A Sunset Rich, Deep Like Love In Beauty Without End.