The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph,

Places That Are Empty Of You Are Empty Of Life.

Beauty Like Hers Is Genius.

At Length Their Long Kiss Severed, With Sweet Smart:and As The Last Slow Sudden Drops Are Shedfrom Sparkling Eaves When All The Storm Has Fled,so Singly Flagged The Pulses Of Each Heart.

It Is Beautiful, The World, And Life Itself. I Am Glad I Have Lived.

Deep In The Sun-searched Growths The Dragonfly Hangs Like A Blue Thread Loosened From The Sky.