The world we suggest is a new wild west. A sensuous evil world. Strange and haunting, the path of the sun.

The same stream of life that runs through the world runs through my veins night and day.

Some day I shall sing to thee in the sunrise of some other world, I have seen thee before in the light of the earth, in the love of man.

I sit at my window gazing The world passes by, nods to me And is gone.

It is no use dealing with illusions and make-believes. We must look at the facts. The world ... is too dangerous for anyone to be able to afford to nurse illusions. We must look at realities.

Every poem is a momentary stay against the confusion of the world.