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

The mind-is not the heart. I may yet live, as I know others live, To wish in vain to let go with the mind- Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me That I need learn to let go with the heart.

Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.

It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.

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