End Is A Gloomy Word.

Gathering Leaves Spades Take Up Leaves No Better Than Spoons, And Bags Full Of Leaves Are Light As Balloons. I Make A Great Noise Of Rustling All Day Like Rabbit And Deer Running Away. But The Mountains I Raise Elude My Embrace, Flowing Over My Arms And Into My Face. I May Load And Unload Again And Again Till I Fill The Whole Shed, And What Have I Then? Next To Nothing For Weight, And Since They Grew Duller From Contact With Earth, Next To Nothing For Color. Next To Nothing For Use. But A Crop Is A Crop, And Who's To Say Where The Harvest Shall Stop?

I'm Always Saying Something That's Just The Edge Of Something More.

Keep All Ur Troubles In Ur Own Pocket. But, Make Sure That The Pocket Has A Hole!

I Dwell In A Lonely House I Know That Vanished Many A Summer Ago.

Only God And I Knew What I Meant When I Wrote It, Now Only God Knows