The Poet's Mind Is In Fact A

Music Heard So Deeply That It Is Not Heard At All, But You Are The Music While The Music Lasts.

In My Beginning Is My End. In Succession Houses Rise And Fall, Crumble, Are Extended, Are Removed, Destroyed, Restored, Or In Their Place Is An Open Field, Or A Factory, Or A By-pass. Old Stone To New Building, Old Timber To New Fires, Old Fires To Ashes, And Ashes To The Earth Which Is Already Flesh, Fur And Faeces, Bone Of Man And Beast, Cornstalk And Leaf.

I Read, Much Of The Night, And Go South In The Winter.

When A Cat Adopts You, And I Am Not Superstitious At All I Don't Mean Only Black Cats There Is Nothing To Be Done About It Except To Put Up With It And Wait Until The Wind Changes.

We Fight To Keep Something Alive Rather Than In The Expectation That Anything Will Triumph.