Love Itself Draws On A Woman Nearly

There Was Nothing But Land; Not A Country At All, But The Material Out Of Which Countries Are Made.

This Is Reality, Whether You Like It Or Not--all Those Frivolities Of Summer, The Light And Shadow, The Living Mask Of Green That Trembled Over Everything, They Were Lies, And This Is What Was Underneath. This Is The Truth.

Life Hurrying Past Us And Running Away, Too Strong To Stop, Too Sweet To Lose.

The Heart, When It Is Too Much Alive, Aches For That Brown Earth, And Ecstasy Has No Fear Of Death.

Old People, Who Have Felt Blows And Toil And Known The World's Hard Hand, Need, Even More Than Children Do, A Woman's Tenderness.