The children of the poor are little plants
That grow in sandy soil midst rocks and weeds
And rusty cans of tin, and other junk
Within the gloomy shadow of a wall,
The gloomy shadow of a mildewed wall;
Poor little plants! poor children of the poor.
THE CALL OF SEX
Know you that bottomless and boundless sea,
Each heaving billow whereof is a woman?
Oh, how my love-parched body craves to plunge