Why didst thou carve thy speech laboriously, And match and blend thy words with curious art? For Song, one saith, is but a human heart Speaking aloud, undisciplined and free....
What distant mountains thrill and glow Beneath our Lady Folly's tread? Why has she left us, wise in woe, Shrewd, practical, uncomforted? We cannot love or dream or sing,...
On nights like this the huddled sheep Are like white clouds upon the grass, And merry herdsmen guard their sleep And chat and watch the big stars pass....