This Is The Simplest Of

I Made Man With Too Many Faults. Yet I Love Him. And If He Wishes, I Have A Home Above For Him.

Who Is This That Comes In Grandeur, Coming From The Blazing East? This Is He We Had Not Thought Of, This Is He The Airy Christ.

Youth Is An Arithmetical Statement Of Passing Interest, Each Hour Eats It Up.

See The Cat At Love, Rolling With Its Sweetheart, Up And Over, With Shriek And Moan. But If A Person Comes By, They Break Away, Sit Separate Upon A Fence Washing Their Faces - And Might Never Have Met At All.

Love Is Not Love That Wounded Bleeds And Bleeding Sullies Slow. Come Death Within My Hands And I Unto My Love Will Go.