(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.