To What Purpose, April, Do You Return

All My Life, Following Care Along The Dusty Road, Have I Looked Back On Loveliness And Sighed.

Tiresome Heart, Forever Living And Dying, House Without Air, I Leave You And Lock Your Door. Wild Swans, Come Over The Town, Come Over The Town Again, Trailing Your Legs And Crying!

Catch From The Board Of Beauty/ Such Careless Crumbs As Fall.

The World Stands Out On Either Side No Wider Than The Heart Is Wide; Above The World Is Stretched The Sky, No Higher Than The Soul Is High. The Heart Can Push The Sea And Land Farther Away On Either Hand; The Soul Can Split The Sky In Two, And Let The Face Of God Shine Through. But East And West Will Pinch The Heart That Can Not Keep Them Pushed Apart; And He Whose Soul Is Flat—the Sky Will Cave In On Him By And By.

When We Are Old And These Rejoicing Veins Are Frosty Channels To A Muted Stream, And Out Of All Our Burning There Remains No Feeblest Spark To Fire Us, Even In Dream, This Be Our Solace: That It Was Not Said When We Were Young And Warm And In Our Prime, Upon Our Couch We Lay As Lie The Dead, Sleeping Away The Unreturning Time.