Love Is The Last Relay And Ultimate

From Perfect Grief There Need Not Bewisdom Or Even Memory;one Thing Then Learned Remains To Me -the Woodspurge Has A Cup Of Three.

Tell Me Now In What Hidden Way Islady Flora The Lovely Roman?where's Hipparchia, And Where Is Thais,neither Of Them The Fairer Woman?where Is Echo, Beheld Of No Man,only Heard On River And Mere-she Whose Beauty Was More Than Human?-but Where Are The Snows Of Yester-year?

I Have Been Here Before, But When Or How I Cannot Tell: I Know The Grass Beyond The Door, The Sweet Keen Smell, The Sighing Sound, The Lights Around The Shore. ... You Have Been Mine Before, How Long Ago I May Not Know: But Just When At That Swallow's Soar Your Neck Turned So, Some Veil Did Fall - I Knew It All Of Yore. Has This Been Thus Before? And Shall Not Thus Time's Eddying Flight Still With Our Lives Our Love Restore In Death's Despite, And Day And Night Yield One Delight Once More

I Do Not See Them Here; But After Death God Knows I Know The Faces I Shall See, Each One A Murdered Self, With Low Last Breath. 'i Am Thyself,what Hast Thou Done To Me?' 'and Iand Ithyself,' (lo! Each One Saith,) 'and Thou Thyself To All Eternity!

Give Honour Unto Luke Evangelist; For He It Was (the Aged Legends Say) Who First Taught Art To Fold Her Hands And Pray.