Be kind, Helen, I am so tired of thinking; There are so many difficult corridors of thought, With equal iron banisters leading back again: So many stone stairs, Helen, up which I sought To rediscover the windy sky, and stand, blinking, In the lost sunlight: as bright as pain, Helen. I would give almost anything now Even for pain.

Helen whose face was fatal must have wept Many salt tears to keep her eyes so bright Many long nights alone: and every night Men died, she cried, and happy Par…

Little child Who was me once, My pity on you- And reverence. If we could meet Where I once strayed, The betrayer And the betrayed. If we could win back In Time…

God is love, the bishops tell. Yes, I know, But love is hell.