Wake The Happy Words.

Should We Say The Self, Once Perceived, Becomes The Soul?

Any Fool Can Take A Bad Line Out Of A Poem; It Takes A Real Pro To Throw Out A Good Line.

The Indignity Of It!- With Everything Blooming Above Me, Lilies, Pale-pink Cyclamen, Roses, Whole Fields Lovely And Inviolate,- Me Down In The Fetor Of Weeds, Crawling On All Fours, Alive, In A Slippery Grave.

And I Rejoiced In Being What I Was.

Be Sure That Whatever You Are Is You.