What I Do Is Me, For That

Horrible To Say, In A Manner I Am A Communist.

All The World Is Full Of Inscape And Chance Left Free To Act Falls Into An Order As Well As Purpose.

I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark, Not Day. What Hours, O What Black Hours We Have Spent This Night!

And The Headbonny Ash That Sits Over The Burn. What Would The World Be, Once Bereft Of Wet And Of Wildness? Let Them Be Left, O Let Them Be Left, Wildness And Wet: Long Live The Weeds And The Wilderness Yet.

As Kingfishers Catch Fire, Dragonflies Draw Flame