We can make our minds so like still water that beings gather about us that they may see, it may be, their own images, and so live for a moment with a clearer, perhaps even with a fiercer life because of our quiet.

From our birthday, until we die, Is but the winking of an eye.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.

Wine enters through the mouth, Love, the eyes. I raise the glass to my mouth, I look at you, I sigh.

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there.

THOUGH you are in your shining days, Voices among the crowd And new friends busy with your praise, Be not unkind or proud, But think about old friends the most: Time's bitter flood will rise, Your beauty perish and be lost For all eyes but these eyes.

I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.