Words I've said made adieu,
truth this stage few are new.
Treasure those that you show,
some're comfort now I go.
You can carefully discern
what I tried, would learn.
Time has worn much I told,
it never glittered as of gold,
but gave me solice in this storm--
all I offer now at rest.
One or two I thought the best,
so you know or have me known.
They and me in ether be
as long you read--see the left of me.
__________
* A poem "is a mechanism, a kind of a machine. Its parts work both together and against each other so as to exercise the mind of the reader. When you work with it, as you enter its world, you get the literary equivalent of a workout at the gym." From
