One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.
Courage is in the air in bracing whiffs Better than all the stalemate an's and ifs.
The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.
An idea is a feat of association.
I wonder about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place?
I could define poetry this way: it is that which is lost out of both prose and verse in translation.
The rose is a rose, And was always a rose. But the theory now goes That the apple's a rose.
And nothing to look backward to with pride, and nothing to look forward to with hope.
Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.
"If it were a dog, it would have bitten you already." Actual Twents: "At e ne hond was, dan e oew allange ebettene." Meaning: Said to someone who is looking for something which is right under his nose. Source: Twents Woordenbook. Twents in Woord en Gebruik.
Courage is of the heart by derivation, And great it is. But fear is of the soul.
Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.
But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been - alone, As all must be, I said within my heart, Whether they work together or apart.
I am assured at any rate Man's practically inexterminate. Someday I must go into that. There's always been an Ararat Where someone someone else begat To start the world all over at.
Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice.
Leaves and bark, leaves and bark, To lean against and hear in the dark. Petals I may have once pursued. Leaves are all my darker mood.
My definition of poetry (if I were forced to give one) would be this: words that have become deeds.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile / And then come back to it and begin over.
Live and let live, believe and let believe. 'Twas said the lesser gods were only traits Of the one awful God. Just so the saints Are God's white light refracted into colors.
In heaven we are all ghostwriters, if we write at all.
The Moon for all her light and grace Has never learned to know her place.
... War is for everyone, for children too. I wasn't going to tell you and I mustn't. The best way is to come uphill with me And have our fire and laugh and be afraid.
Now close the windows and hush all the fields: If the trees must, let them silently toss.
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