Poetry Is A Way Of

Both T.s. Eliot And I Like To Play, But I Like To Play Euchre, While He Likes To Play Eucharist.

It Should Be Of The Pleasure Of A Poem Itself To Tell How It Can. The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom. The Figure Is The Same For Love.

I'd Like To Get Away From Earth Awhile And Then Come Back To It And Begin Over. May No Fate Wilfully Misunderstand Me And Half Grant What I Wish And Snatch Me Away Not To Return. Earth's The Right Place For Love: I Don't Know Where It's Likely To Go Better.

Nature's Never Quite Sure She Hasn't Erred In Her Vague Design.

I'd Like To Go By Climbing A Birch Tree~ And Climb Black Branches Up A Snow-white Trunk Toward Heaven, Till The Tree Could Bear No More, But Dipped Its Top And Set Me Down Again. That Would Be Good Both Going And Coming Back. One Could Do Worse Than Be A Swinger Of Birches.