Let not the Olive boast of her own fatness, nor the Fig-tree of her own sweetness, nor the Vine of her own fruitfulness, for we were all but Brambles.
We should never forget that of all the art forms, only the poem can be carried around in the brain…
Galactic Lovepoem Warm your feet at the sunset Before we go to bed Read your book by the light of…
On Being Asked for a War Poem I think it better that in times like these A poet keep his…