Better Have Failed In The High Aim,

Mid The Sharp, Short Emerald Wheat, Scarce Risen Three Fingers Well, The Wild Tulip At The End Of Its Tube, Blows Out Its Great Red Bell, Like A Thin Clear Bubble Of Blood, For The Children To Pick And Sell.

How Sad And Bad And Mad It Was - But Then, How It Was Sweet

Only I Discern Infinite Passion, And The Pain Of Finite Hearts That Yearn.

Graved Inside Of It, "italy".

The Common Problem, Yours, Mine, Everyone's Is ? Not To Fancy What Were Fair In Life Provided It Could Be ? But, Finding First What May Be, Then Find How To Make It Fair Up To Our Means.