(The more loving one)
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return
If equal affection cannot be
Let me be the more loving one.
(Say this city has ten million souls)
Say this city has ten million souls
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes
Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, there’s no place for us.
And my favorite – (In Memory of W. B. Yeats)
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountain start,
In the prisons of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.