Tall oaks branch charmed by the earnest stars Dream and so dream all night without a stir.
You are always new. The last of your kisses was even the sweetest; the last smile the brightest; the last movement the gracefullest.
That which is creative must create itself.
Life is but a day; A fragile dewdrop on its perilous way From a tree's summit.
was it a vision or a waking dream? Fled is that music--do I wake or sleep?
Feeling well that breathed words Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps Of grasshoppers against the sun.