“But then, one bright morning, I walked out through woods of pine and birch. Foxgloves and wild clematis and briar roses were bursting from the earth. Birdsong shook the air. Swifts snipped at the sky. I knew then that I must publish a collection of my poems. Not only the tragic ones but new verse, about the glory of life, the joys of solitude, the majesty of nature.”
