Yet, Behind The Night, Waits

Now, God Be Thanked Who Has Matched Us With His Hour, And Caught Our Youth, And Wakened Us From Sleeping, With Hand Made Sure, Clear Eye, And Sharpened Power, To Turn, As Swimmers Into Cleanness Leaping.

The Cool Kindliness Of Sheets, That Soon Smooth Away Trouble; And The Rough Male Kiss Of Blankets.

For Cambridge People Rarely Smile, Being Urban, Squat, And Packed With Guile.

I Have Been So Great A Lover: Filled My Days So Proudly With The Splendour Of Love's Praise, The Pain, The Calm, And The Astonishment, Desire Illimitable, And Silent Content, And All Dear Names Men Use, To Cheat Despair, For The Perplexed And Viewless Streams That Bear Our Hearts At Random Down The Dark Of Life.

There Are Only Three Things In The World, One Is To Read Poetry, Another Is To Write Poetry, And The Best Of All Is To Live Poetry.