Love, Why Have You Sought The Horde

Pompeii Has Nothing To Teach Us, We Know Crack Of Volcanic Fissure, Slow Flow Of Terrible Lava, Pressure On Heart, Lungs, The Brain About To Burst Its Brittle Case (what The Skull Can Endure!)

The Whole White World Is Ours.

Take What The Old-church Found In Mithra's Tomb, Candle And Script And Bell, Take What The New-church Spat Upon And Broke And Shattered.

She Did Not Look At The Daffodils. They Didn't Mean Anything. She Looked At The Daffodils. She Said, 'thank You For The Daffodils.

Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor Hate For A Cry, But God With A Song