In the presence of a blind crowd. The color of life was gray. In its sordid life. Surely, some dread sight, and dafter Than human eyes as mine can see, Set the stricken air waves drumming In his flight. Ah, how the senses flood at my repeating, As once in her fire-lit heart I felt the furies Beating, beating.
Peace is here and in every season a quiet beauty.
The sky falling about me evenly to the compass . . . Beauty of an old, old tree, last comfort in Gethsemane. Just for you living, just for you giving all this devotion, Black man o' mine. Black man o' mine, if the world were your lover It could not give what I give to you. Though rank and fierce the mariner Sailing the seven seas, He prays as he holds his glass to his eyes, Coaxing the Pleiades.