.  A SWEETNESS APPEARS AND PREVAILS  The reason we bother  to get up in the morning  is because of everything;  is because there is another arithmetic  without internal sense  and we ache at the borders;  is because the grey music  of the first chickadee before dawn  in the hemlocks  is the grinding engines of the humpyard  carried on morning air;  is because we are afraid  and know everyone is afraid  and do not know  who will soothe our tears  nor how many tears  we will hold unshed.  You seem to be you  and I seem to be me.  My sorrows are no greater  than your sorrows.  Thou art beautiful,  o my loves,  as tears are.  