Heaven gives its glimpses only to those not in position to look too close.

You can be a little ungrammatical if you come from the right part of the country.

So when at times the mob is swayed To carry praise or blame too far, We may choose something like a star To stay our minds on and be staid.

Why make so much of fragmentary blue In here and there a bird, or butterfly, Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye, When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

I came from a very intellectual neighborhood. When we played cowboys and Indians as kids, I had to be Gandhi.

But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been - alone, As all must be, I said within my heart, Whether they work together or apart.

I'm not confused. I'm just well mixed.