Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God.

What makes a nation in the beginning is a good piece of geography.

Have I not walked without an upward look Of caution under stars that very well Might not have missed me when they shot and fell? It was a risk I had to take-and took.

For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.

Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away / You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.

Nobody was ever meant, To remember or invent, What he did with every cent.

I believe in teaching, but I don’t believe in going to school.