O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow, Make the day seem to us less brief... Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst.
The test is always how we treat the poor.
How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know what I was walling in or walling out.
Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.
The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.