Lord, for sixty-so years I've surrendered my love,
to emblems of kindness, and not the kindness they were emblems of,
Trammels and rings, with the strength of old strings,
and some hobble skirt spring, by the old problem caught,
Children, sometimes I think all our thoughts are just things,
and then sometimes think things are just thoughts"
and the rabble rang.

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As the Moon rose and the hour grew late, The day help on a Coconut estate raked up the dry leaves that fell dead from the trees, Which they burned in a pile by the lake. The Beetle King summoned his men, and from the top of the Rhododendron stem: "Calling all volunteers who can carry back here, the Great Mystery's been lit once again."

You've got it all turned upside-down. Does the rain that's sent each spring anew to fall on her not fall on you? You project on her your inward scenes, she's a blank, external movie screen. But the One who looks out from your eyes looks through hers and through mine.