Man that is of woman born is apt to be as vain has his mother.

A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look

A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being.

Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.

God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden

The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.

Tree at my window, window tree, My sash is lowered when night comes on; But let there never be curtain drawn Between you and me.