Olive Custance Douglas dies of a cerebral hemorrage in February at the age of 67. Raymond is able to attend the funeral and in June is again de-certified and released from St. Andrew's Hospital. 1945 Bosie dies of congestive heart failure on Wedneday, March 20th at the age of 74. He was buried at the Franciscan Montastery in Crawley on Friday, March 23rd. He is interred alongside his mother, one gravestone covers them both.
All good poetry is forged slowly and patiently, link by link, with sweat and blood and tears.
The place is sealed, An unclaimed sovereignty of voiceless song, And all the unravished silences belong To some sweet singer lost, or unrevealed. Oh, may I wake from this uneasy night To find some voice of music manifold. Let it be shape of sorrow with wan face, Or love that swoons on sleep, or else delight That is as wide-eyed as a marigold. That am as easily wounded as a dove Who has a silver throat and feet of pink. My Own Boy, Your sonnet is quite lovely, and it is a marvel that those rose-leaf lips of yours should have been made no less for music of song than for madness of kisses.