the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

XVII Lady, i will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene (lady i will touch you with my mind.)Touch you,that is all, lightly and you utterly will become with infinite care the poem which i do not write.

Must's a schoolroom in the month of may

hate blows a bubble of despair into hugeness world system universe and bang -fear buries a tomorrow under woe and up comes yesterday most green and young

O sweet spontaneous earth how often has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty thou answereth them only with spring.

Lovers alone wear sunlight.

The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.