the voyage ka looks acrossthe loan storm foamwhile miraculous as cornwas found among our collective pianosdoomedto windows breakingup on the roofthe subjective is always open
be very everythingat timesmildly solipsisticnervous thinkingennui ofinformation isthe rightthing to dosomething wiseand diplomaticlike adiploma desertsthe kitchencakewalk whenthe catthinks school
I shall return again; I shall returnTo laugh and love and watch with wonder-eyesAt golden noon the forest fires burn,Wafting their blue-black smoke to sapphire skies.I shall return to loiter by the streamsThat bathe the brown blades of the bending grasses,And realize once more my thousand dreamsOf waters rushing down the mountain passes.I shall return to hear the fiddle and fifeOf village dances, dear delicious tunesThat stir the hidden depths of native life,Stray melodies of dim remembered runes.I shall return, I shall return again,To ease my mind of long, long years of pain.
Here is the soundless cypress on the lawn :It listens, listens. Taller trees beyondListen. The moon at the unruffled pondStares. And you sing, you sing.That star-enchanted song falls through the airFrom lawn to lawn down terraces of sound,Darts in white arrows on the shadowed ground ;While all the night you sing.My dreams are flowers to which you are a bee,As all night long I listen, and my brainReceives your song, then loses it againIn moonlight on the lawn.Now is your voice a marble high and white,Then like a mist on fields of paradise ;Now is a raging fire, then is like ice,Then breaks, and it is dawn.