And All The Loveliest Things

The Only People I Really Hate Are Servants. They're Not Really Human Beings At All.

No One But Night, With Tears On Her Dark Face, Watches Beside Me In This Windy Place.

Cruel Of Heart, Lay Down My Song. Your Reading Eyes Have Done Me Wrong. Not For You Was The Pen Bitten, And The Mind Wrung, And The Song Written.

On And On Eternally Shall Your Altered Fluid Run, Bud And Bloom And Go To Seed; But Your Singing Days Are Done

Father, I Beg Of Thee A Little Task To Dignify My Days, 'tis All I Ask.