They Say Night's Beauties Fade At Dawn,

Let Him Grow Taller,she Asked The Gods.let Him Know Sixteen, And Twenty, And Fifty. Let Him Grow As Tall As His Father, And Hold His Own Son In His Arms. Please, Please, Please.

Speak The Name, And Death Will Come. On The Morrow, At The Turn Of The Moon, A Year From This Day, It Will Come. A Man Does Not Fly Like A Bird, But One Foot Moves And Then Another And One Day A Man Is There.

It Was Bitingly Cold Up Here,and The Wind Pulled At His Clothes Like An Insistent Lover.

She Had Put Despair And Fear Aside, As If They Were Garments She Did Not Choose To Wear.

She Could Not Bear To Look At Him Just Now. If She Did, She Might Well Slap Him Again. Or Cry. Or Kiss Him. And Never Know Which Was Right And Which Was Wrong And Which Was Madness.