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

There never was any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate.

I'd like to get away from earth awhile / And then come back to it and begin over.

When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloud And goes down burning into the gulf below, No voice in nature is heard to cry aloud At what has happened. Birds, at least must know It is the change to darkness in the sky. Murmuring something quiet in her breast, One bird begins to close a faded eye; Or overtaken too far from his nest, Hurrying low above the grove, some waif Swoops just in time to his remembered tree. At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe! Now let the night be dark for all of me. Let the night be too dark for me to see Into the future. Let what will be, be.

The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a love sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

He thought that I was after him for a feather--- The white one in his tail: like one who takes everything said as personal to himself.