Time! Joyless emblem of the greed of millions, robber of the best which earth can give.

You are ice and fire the touch of you burns my hands like snow.

I never deny poems when they come; whatever I am doing, whatever I am writing, I lay it aside and attend to the arriving poem.

I should like to bring a case to trial: Prosperity versus Beauty, Cash registers teetering in a balance against the comfort of the soul.

When you came, you were like red wine and honey, and the taste of you burnt my mouth with its sweetness.

Sexual love is the most stupendous fact of the universe, and the most magical mystery our poor blind senses know.

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.