After The Feet Of Beauty Fly My

Beauty Is Whatever Gives Joy.

But You, You Foolish Girl, You Have Gone Home To A Leaky Castle Across The Sea To Lie Awake In Linen Smelling Of Lavender, And Hear The Nightingale, And Long For Me.

There Is No Shelter In You Anywhere.

April Comes Like An Idiot, Babbling And Strewing Flowers.

Gently They Go, The Beautiful, The Tender, The Kind; Quietly They Go, The Intelligent, The Witty, The Brave. I Know. But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.