The chance is the remotest, Of its going much longer unnoticed, That I'm not keeping pace With the headlong human race

In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.

The greatest thing in family life is to take a hint when a hint is intended-and not to take a hint when a hint isn't intended.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart In that vanished abode there far apart

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.

Nothing flatters me more than to have it assumed that I could write prose, unless it be to have it assumed that I once pitched a baseball with distinction.

We love the things we love for what they are.