My Name Is Truth And I Am

Our Lives Are Like A Candle In The Wind.

I Took To Wearing A Black Tie Known As The Ascot, With Long Drooping Ends. I Had Seen Pictures Of Painters, Sculptors, Poets, Wearing This Style Of Tie.

We Read Robert Browning's Poetry. Here We Needed No Guidance From The Professor: The Poems Themselves Were Enough.

Didn't You Tie The Mittens On Her Feet (wednesday Evening's) Extra Special Nice? Yes--she Is An Extra Special Nice Pigeon. She Cries For Pity When She Wants Pity. And She Shuts Her Eyes When She Doesn't Want To Look At You. And If You Look Deep In Her Eyes When Her Eyes Are Open You Will See Lights There Exactly Like The Lights On The Pastures And The Meadows When The Mist Is Drifting On A Wednesday Evening Just Between The Twilight And Gloaming.

And All Poets Love Dust And Mist Because All The Last Answers. Go Running Back To Dust And Mist.