No word that is not flesh, he said,
Can hold my wavering ear; but when
The golden physical flesh is dear,
I dance in a glory like your glory
With force to stir the dead.
No word that is not thought, he said,
Can hook my slippery mind; but when
The silver accurate thought I find,
I dance in a glory like your glory
With force to stir the dead.
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The Widow
“The earth out of stone, the rose out of earth, Are strange things,” she suddenly said; “A rose in bloom is a strange thing.” “There are stranger things than that, […]
Two of a Kind
The personal man looked up and said, “This moon revolves for me.” The general man looked up and said, “Once in this dust I’m free.” The personal man and the […]
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