Butterflies...flowers That Fly And All

Possessing What We Still Were Unpossessed By, Possessed By What We Now No More Possessed.

I Have Remained Resentful To This Day When Any But Myself Presumed To Say That There Was Anything I Couldn't Be.

I've Given Offense By Saying I'd As Soon Write Free Verse As Play Tennis With The Net Down.

I Shall Set Forth For Somewhere, I Shall Make The Reckless Choice Some Say When They Are In Voice And Tossing So As To Scare The White Clouds Over Them On, I Shall Have Less To Say, But I Shall Be None.

Only Where Love And Need Are One, And The Work Is Play For Mortal Stakes Is The Deed Ever Truly Done For Heaven And The Future's Sakes