Opinion is a fitting thing but truth outlasts the sun - if then we cannot own them both, possess the oldest one.

I miss the grasshoppers much, but suppose it is all for the best. I should become too much attached to a trotting world.

The brain is wider than the sky, For, put them side by side, The one the other will include With ease, and you beside.

Grant me, O Lord, a sunny mind-Thy windy will to bear!

Forever is made up of nows.

I dwell in possiblities.

We do not play on Graves— Because there isn't Room— Besides—it isn't even—it slants And People come— And put a Flower on it— And hang their faces so— We're fearing that their Hearts will drop— And crush our pretty play— And so we move as far As Enemies—away— Just looking round to see how far It is—Occasionally—