Life is so rotatory that the wilderness falls to each, sometime.
Had we less to say to those we love, perhaps we should say it oftener.
Inebriate of air am I, And debauchee of dew, Reeling, through endless summer days, From inns of molten blue.
There is a pain so utter, it swallows being up; The covers the abyss with a trance So memory can step around, across, upon it.
The only Commandment I ever obeyed — 'Consider the Lilies.
Till I loved I never lived.