Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm.

A false enchantment can all too easily last a lifetime.

It is a sad fact about our culture that a poet can earn much more money writing or talking about his art than he can by practicing it.

And none will hear the postman’s knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

Like love we don't know where or why Like love we cant compel or fly Like Love we often weep Like Love we seldom keep

Into this neutral air Where blind skyscrapers use Their full height to proclaim The strength of Collective Man, Each language pours its vain Competitive excuse.

There must always be two kinds of art: escape-art, for man needs escape as he needs food and deep sleep, and parable-art, that art which shall teach man to unlearn hatred and learn love.