Ants Are A Curious Race

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.

Before I Built A Wall I'd Ask To Know What I Was Walling In Or Walling Out.

Any Eye Is An Evil Eye That Looks In On To A Mood Apart.

But Not Gold In Commercial Quantities, Just Enough Gold To Make The Engagement Rings And Marriage Rings Of Those Who Owned The Farm. What Gold More Innocent Could One Have Asked For?

In Heaven We Are All Ghostwriters, If We Write At All.