My definition of poetry (if I were forced to give one) would be this: words that have become deeds.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet When far away an interrupted cry Came over houses from another street, But not to call me back or say good-bye.

A champion of the workingman has never been known to die of overwork.

It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same for love.

My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.

The truly educated can listen to any view without losing their temper or self-confidence.

All the fun is in how you say a thing.