My tears are like the quiet drift Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift Of unremembered skies and snows.
I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.
Birmingham Clown In The Moon Days The Deserter Don't Be Square Flowers That Die The Folks Who Live On The Hill Getting There Hullabaloo I Am Scared Of... Impression Du Matin An Interlude Jerusalem Mama, You Been on My Mind The Old Familiar Faces On Creativity One Day I May Believe In Spring People On Trains Red Riddles Stardust Trial & Error What Ifs When You Are Old Wit and Wisdom
