William R. Stott, Jr.

Margaret Lawler Stott


A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart of love:
The folk who are buying and selling;
The clouds on their journey above;
The cold wet winds ever blowing;
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-gray waters are flowing
Threaten the head that i love.

                                                  W.B. Yeats

… From the timeful
to the timeless…
“Ipse Dixit…”

Thank you,
Thank you,
Thank you…
My dear girl

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