God Gave A Loaf To Every Bird,

A Courteous, Yet Harrowing Grace, As Guest, That Would Be Gone

Longing, It May Be, Is The Gift No Other Gift Supplies.

Prayer Is The Little Implement Through Which Men Reach; Where Presence Is Denied Them.

If I Read A Book And It Makes My Whole Body So Cold No Fire Can Ever Warm Me, I Know That Is Poetry.

March Is The Month Of Expectation, The Things We Do Not Know, The Persons Of Prognostication Are Coming Now. We Try To Sham Becoming Firmness, But Pompous Joy Betrays Us, As His First Betrothal Betrays A Boy.