A Turning Point In Modern

The Trees That Have It In Their Pent-up Buds To Darken Nature And Be Summer Woods.

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, So Dawn Goes Down To Day. Nothing Gold Can Stay.

There Is Absolutely No Reason For Being Rushed Along With The Rush. Everybody Should Be Free To Go Slow.

Poetry Is About The Grief. Politics Is About The Grievance.

I Believe In Teaching, But I Don’t Believe In Going To School.