I do what many dream of, all their lives
It is the glory and good of Art, That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.
My care is for myself; Myself am whole and sole reality.
On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven a perfect round.
A minute of success pays for years of failure.
To me at least was never evening yet, but seemed far beautifuller than its day.