"Oh dear and laughing, lost to me, Hidden in grey Eternity, I shall attain, with burning feet, To you and to the mercy-seat! The ages crumble down like dust, Dark roses, deviously thrust And scattered in sweet wine — but I, I shall lift up to you my cry, And kiss your wet lips presently Beneath the ever-living Tree."
January 1, 1970
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Stephen_Vincent_Ben%C3%A9t