O Do Not Weep, She Says, For

I Spit Honey Out Of My Mouth: Nothing Is Second-best After The Sweet Of Eros.

She Did Not Look At The Daffodils. They Didn't Mean Anything. She Looked At The Daffodils. She Said, 'thank You For The Daffodils.

O Happy, Happy Each Man Whom Predestined Fate Leads To The Holy Rite Of Hill And Mountain Worship.

You Will Not See That Desire Begets Love, Until It All Flames Into One Concise And Metallic Blaze.

No Man Will Be Present In Those Mysteries, Yet All Men Will Kneel, No Man Will Be Potent, Important, Yet All Men Will Feel What It Is To Be A Woman.