If I Don't Write To

If A Man Proves Too Clearly And Convincingly To Himself...that A Tiger Is An Optical Illusion--well, He Will Find Out He Is Wrong. The Tiger Will Himself Intervene In The Discussion, In A Manner Which Will Be In Every Sense Conclusive.

My Days Are In The Yellow Leaf; The Flowers And Fruits Of Love Are Gone; The Worm, The Canker, And The Grief, Are Mine Alone!

My Altars Are The Mountains And The Ocean.

Tis The Perception Of The Beautiful, A Fine Extension Of The Faculties, Platonic, Universal, Wonderful, Drawn From The Stars, And Filtered Through The Skies, Without Which Life Would Be Extremely Dull

Fare Thee Well, And If For Ever Still For Ever Fare Thee Well.