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True Beauty

                   True Beauty I watched true beauty as the bus rode past The landscape Oxfordshire rolled out.  The nose Sat nobler than the slopes that will outlast Him, but its shape turned hillsides into prose. Those poems, though they now were only thought In...

He

                       He The way he makes us feel is like the vaults In high cathedrals.  High and higher still They rise within our hearts with all their faults Though far above us like a sacred grille He sets out forms for irises and souls. The complications of the...

Higher Still and Higher

   Higher Still and Higher That lower lip alone could cause us all To ponder beauty in the abstract — if The lip were not so lovely to enthrall Beyond pale intelligence.  A hieroglyph For everything which symphonies desire, This fuller plumpness with its carnal...