My love for those I love -- not many -- not very many, but don't I love them so?
I'll tell you how the sun rose, a ribbon at a time. The steeples swam in amethyst, The news like squirrels ran. The hills untied their bonnets, The bobolinks begun. Then I said softly to myself, "That must have been the sun!
I tasted life.
Nature is a haunted house--but Art--is a house that tries to be haunted.
I never saw a meme; I never saw the sea.
Some keep the Sabbath going to church, I keep it staying at home, with a bobolink for a chorister, and an orchard for a dome.