a tune from the starry skyit's their words
their prudence
the poetry of their lives
noone knows the night
it's a long journey
she wiped her eyes and when she saw
what the handkerchief looked like
she uttered a cry and rushed up and down the staircase
the haunt of a human
and mr. Johnson felt particularly
their sense of grimaces offended him
and the music was puring out of the piano
as a river pures downstairs the mountainside
or as the wind gush forth a tree and yields the branches
there is life enough for more than one day
but she didn't know what life
