I Don't Need The Stars In The

The Silver, Snarling Trumpets 'gan To Chide.

A Man's Life Of Any Worth Is A Continual Allegory, And Very Few Eyes Can See The Mystery Of His Life, A Life Like The Scriptures, Figurative.

The Poppies Hung Dew-dabbled On Their Stalks.

Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive.

Philosophy Will Clip An Angel's Wings, Conquer All Mysteries By Rule And Line, Empty The Haunted Air, And Gnomed Mine - Unweave A Rainbow.