God Dropped A Spark Down Into Everyone,

Quinquireme Of Nineveh From Distant Ophir, Rowing Home To Haven In Sunny Palestine, With A Cargo Of Ivory, And Apes And Peacocks, Sandalwood, Cedarwood, And Sweet White Wine.

Man With His Burning Soul Has But An Hour Of Breath To Build A Ship Of Truth In Which His Soul May Sail- Sail On The Sea Of Death. For Death Takes Toll Of Beauty, Courage, Youth, Of All But Truth.

Love Is A Flame To Burn Out Human Wills, Love Is A Flame To Set The Will On Fire, Love Is A Flame To Cheat Men Into Mire.

The Distant Soul Can Shake The Distant Friend's Soul And Make The Longing Felt, Over Untold Miles.

It's A Warm Wind, The West Wind, Full Of Birds' Cries; I Never Hear The West Wind But Tears Are In My Eyes. For It Comes From The West Lands, The Old Brown Hills, And April's In The West Wind, And Daffodils.