I Don't Miss Teaching. I'm Learning To

It Has As Much To Do With The Energy Released By Linguistic Fission And Fusion, With The Buoyancy Generated By Cadence And Tone And Rhyme And Stanza, As It Has To Do With The Poem's Concerns Or The Poet's Truthfulness.

I Shall Gain Glory Or Die.

But Even So, None Of The News Of These World-spasms Entered Me As Terror.

The Aim Of Poetry And The Poet Is Finally To Be Of Service, To Ply The Effort Of The Individual Into The Larger Work Of The Community As A Whole.

No Bit Of The Natural World Is More Valuable Or More Vulnerable Than The Tree Bit. Nothing Is More Like Ourselves, Standing Upright, Caught Between Heaven And Earth, Frail At The Extremities, Yet Strong At The Central Trunk, And Nothing Is Closer To Us At The Beginning And At The End, Providing The Timber Boards That Frame Both The Cradle And The Coffin.