Earth, Left Silent By The Wind Of

Another Thing Much Too Commonly Seen, Is An Aberration Of The Human Mind Which Otherwise I Should Have Been Ashamed To Warn You Of. It Is Technically Called Carpet-gardening. Need I Explain It Further? I Had Rather Not, For When I Think Of It, Even When I Am Quite Alone, I Blush With Shame At The Thought.

In Prison Wearily, Drearily, Half The Day Long, Flap The Great Banners High Over The Stone; Strangely And Eerily Sounds The Wind's Song, Bending The Banner-poles. While, All Alone, Watching The Loophole's Spark, Lie I, With Life All Dark, Feet Tethered, Hands Fettered Fast To The Stone, The Grim Walls, Square Lettered With Prisoned Men's Groan. Still Strain The Banner-poles Through The Wind's Song, Westward The Banner Rolls Over My Wrong.

There Was A Knight Came Riding By In Early Spring, When The Roads Were Dry; And He Heard That Lady Sing At The Noon, Two Red Roses Across The Moon.

With The Arrogance Of Youth, I Determined To Do No Less Than To Transform The World With Beauty. If I Have Succeeded In Some Small Way, If Only In One Small Corner Of The World, Amongst The Men And Women I Love, Then I Shall Count Myself Blessed, And Blessed, And Blessed, And The Work Goes On.

I Am Going Your Way, So Let Us Go Hand In Hand. You Help Me And I'll Help You. We Shall Not Be Here Very Long ... So Let Us Help One Another While We May.