I’ve watched the Seasons passing slow, so slow, In the fields between La Bassée and Bethune; Primroses and the first…
Puisque les plus heureux ont des douleurs sans nombre, Puisque le sol est froid, puisque les cieux sont lourds, Puisque…
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet…
The Lovers will drink wine night and day. They will drink until they can tear away the veils of intellect…
The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that…
Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown…
Some men never think of it. You did. You’d come along And say you’d nearly brought me flowers But something…