I'm not a teacher, but an awakener.

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

It is absurd to think that the only way to tell if a poem is lasting is to wait and see if it lasts. The right reader of a good poem can tell the moment it strikes him that he has taken an immortal wound-that he will never get over it.

For I have had too much Of apple-picking:I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired.

I am a writer of books in retrospect. I talk in order to understand; I teach in order to learn.

It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling To get adapted to my kind of fooling.

It's hard to get into this world and hard to get out of it, and what's in between doesn't make much sense.