I only hope that when I am free, as they are free to go in quest, of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life, it may not seem better to me to rest.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.

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?

Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.

The best things and best people rise out of their separateness; I'm against a homogenized society because I want the cream to rise.

Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.