What Are We? Young Or

Space Ails Us Moderns: We Are Sick With Space.

You've Got To Love What's Lovable, And Hate What's Hateable. It Takes Brains To See The Difference.

When I Was Young My Teachers Were The Old. I Gave Up Fire For Form Till I Was Cold.

Before I Built A Wall I'd Ask To Know What I Was Walling In Or Walling Out, And To Whom I Was Like To Give Offence. Something There Is That Doesn't Love A Wall, That Wants It Down.

When A Friend Calls To Me From The Road And Slows His Horse To A Meaning Walk, I Don't Stand Still And Look Around On All The Hills I Haven't Hoed, And Shout From Where I Am, What Is It? No, Not As There Is A Time To Talk. I Thrust My Hoe In The Mellow Ground, Blade-end Up And Five Feet Tall, And Plod: I Go Up To The Stone Wall For A Friendly Visit.