More men die of worry than of work, because more men worry than work.
A voice said, Look me in the stars And tell me truly, men of earth, If all the soul-and-body scars Were not too much to pay for birth.
It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling To get adapted to my kind of fooling.
Love has earth to which she clings.
What we live by we die by.
The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.