All a poet can do today is warn.

I, too, saw God through mud

All a poet can do today is warn.

I find purer philosophy in a Poem than in a Conclusion of Geometry, a chemical analysis, or a physical law

All I ask is to be held above the barren wastes of want.

And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall, By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

I dreamed kind Jesus fouled the big-gun gears; and caused a permanent stoppage in all bolts; and buckled with a smile Mausers and Colts; and rusted every bayonet with His tears.