We Live In The Time Of The

What If Someone Gave A War & Nobody Came? / Life Would Ring The Bells Of Ecstasy And Forever Be Itself Again.

There Have Been As Many Varieties Of Socialists As There Are Wild Birds That Fly In The Woods And Sometimes Go Up And On Through The Clouds.

Under The Summer Roses When The Flagrant Crimson Lurks In The Dusk Of The Wild Red Leaves, Love, With Little Hands, Comes And Touches You With A Thousand Memories, And Asks You Beautiful, Unanswerable Questions.

There Is A Warning Love Sends And The Cost Of It Is Never Written Till Long Afterward.

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.