With stammering lips and insufficient sound I strive and struggle to deliver right the music of my nature.
So mothers have God's license to be missed.
And each man stands with his face in the light. Of his own drawn sword, ready to do what a hero can.
You're something between a dream and a miracle.
Eve is a twofold mystery.
When we first met and loved, I did not build Upon the event with marble. . . .