I Am Not A Nature Poet. There

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

There Are Two Kinds Of Teachers: The Kind That Fill You With So Much Quail Shot That You Can't Move, And The Kind That Just Gives You A Little Prod Behind And You Jump To The Skies.

End Is A Gloomy Word.

It Looked As If A Night Of Dark Intent Was Coming, And Not Only A Night, An Age. Someone Had Better Be Prepared For Rage.

A Bird Half Wakened In The Lunar Noon Sang Halfway Through Its Little Inborn Tune.