With the last of my strength
I throw myself into a sleep;
only the breath of the eternal Creator
can wake me again.

O Hunger, Hunger, I will harness thee
And make thee harrow all my spirit's glebe.
Of old the blind bard Herve sang so sweet
He made a wolf to plow his land.

I pine not for pelf, nor for any treasure,
Poverty has indeed its own sweet pleasure,
Brimmed are my eyes, with riches of contentment,
Where no rich man, any more does measure.

'You gave me the key of your heart, my love;
Then why do you make me knock?'
'O, that was yesterday, Saints above!
And last night—I changed the lock!'

You can rest

in the shade of a tree,

but not

in the shade of an axe.

He that is guilty of a sin
Shall rue the crime that he lies in.

Living a whole life has three conditions:
absorbing work which demands and brings fulfilment,
a group of friends with whom to exchange minds,
and a full love to be lost in all the time.

Of these I have the easier two,
but lack the third in lacking you.

Meeting of like minds
progeny of will compels
future undaunted

Her lies poor Walt,
He brewed good malt,
His only fault.

Life
You have been good to me….
You have not made yourself too dear
to juggle with.