Meanwhile myself et cetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera.)

O sweet spontaneous earth

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.

The eyes of my eyes are opened.

wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a far better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers.

Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.