Love Makes Your Soul Crawl Out From

No Man May Make Another Free.

The Sun, The Hero Of Every Day, The Impersonal Old Man That Beams As Brightly On Death As On Birth, Came Up Every Morning.

The Morning Air Was Like A New Dress. That Made Her Feel The Apron Tied Around Her Waist. She Untied It And Flung It On A Low Bush Beside The Road And Walked On, Picking Flowers And Making A Bouquet… From Now On Until Death She Was Going To Have Flower Dust And Springtime Sprinkled Over Everything.

Lack Of Power And Opportunity Passes Off Too Often For Virtue.

From Barren Brown Stems To Glistening Leaf-buds; From The Leaf-buds To Snowy Virginity Of Bloom…it Was Like A Flute Song Forgotten In Another Existence And Remembered Again. What? How? Why? This Singing She Heard That Had Nothing To Do With Her Ears. The Rose Of The World Was Breathing Out Smell. It Followed Her Through All Her Waking Moments And Caressed Her In Her Sleep.