We Are The Ghosts Of The Singing

Come Back, True Love! Sweet Youth, Return!— But Time Goes On, And Will, Unheeding, Though Hands Will Reach, And Eyes Will Yearn, And The Wild Days Set True Hearts Bleeding.

We Are The Ghosts Of The Singing Furies .

We Were All Born Of Flesh, In A Flare Of Pain. We Do Not Remember The Red Roots Whence We Rose, But We Know That We Rose And Walked, That After A While We Shall Lie Down Again.

I Ascend From Darkness And Depart On The Winds Of Space For I Know Not Where; My Watch Is Wound, A Key Is In My Pocket, And The Sky Is Darkened As I Descend The Stair.

I Began By Doing Book Reviews On The Typewriter And Then Went Over To Short Stories On The Machine, Meanwhile Sticking To Pencil For Poetry.