Witches Are Moon-birds, Witches Are The Women

Everything Mortal Has Moments Immortal

How Hard, How Desperately Hard, Is The Way Of The Experimenter In Art!

Guarded Within The Old Red Wall's Embrace, Marshalled Like Soldiers In Gay Company, The Tulips Stand Arrayed. Here Infantry Wheels Out Into The Sunlight.

So With The Stretch Of The White Road Before Me, Shining Snow Crystals Rainbowed By The Sun, Fields That Are White, Stained With Long, Cool, Blue Shadows, Strong With The Strength Of My Horse As We Run. Joy In The Touch Of The Wind And The Sunlight! Joy! With The Vigorous Earth I Am One.

Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The Soul Of Humanity.