The Wombat Is A Joy, A Triumph,

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

This Sunlight Shames November Where He Grieves In Dead Red Leaves, And Will Not Let Him Shun The Day, Though Bough With Bough Be Overrun. But With A Blessing Every Glade Receives High Salutation.

Was It A Friend Or Foe That Spread These Lies; Nay, Who But Infants Question In Such Wise, Twas One Of My Most Intimate Enemies.

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!

Your Eyes Smile Peace.