Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.
There is one thing more exasperating than a wife who can cook and won't, and that's a wife who can't cook and will.
But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to uniteMy avocation and my vocationAs my two eyes make one in sight.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Home is the place when you have to go there they have to take you in.
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.
I have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain - and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light.I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by the watchman o...
Fragmentary BlueWhy make so much of fragmentary blueIn here and there a bird, or butterfly,Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?Since earth is earth, p...
The way a crowShook down on meThe dust of snowFrom a hemlock treeHas given my heartA change of moodAnd saved some partOf a day I had rued.
We love the things we love for what they are.
When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloudAnd goes down burning into the gulf below,No voice in nature is heard to cry aloudAt what has happened. Birds, at least must knowIt is the change to darkn...
Nature's first green is gold,Her hardest hue to hold.Her early leaf's a flower;But only so an hour.Then leaf subsides to leaf.So Eden sank to grief,
A Liberal is a man too broadminded to take his own side in a quarrel.
Never ask of money spent Where the spender thinks it went. Nobody was ever meant To remember or invent What he did with every cent.
What is done is done for the love of it- or not really done at all.
Where had I heard this wind beforeChange like this to a deeper roar?What would it take my standing there for,Holding open a restive door,Looking down hill to a frothy shore?Summer was past and day was...
Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I've tasted of desire,I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twiceI think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruct...
Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.
The Road Not TakenTwo roads diverged in a yellow wood,And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; T...