I Never Knew What Was Meant By

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.

Summary Riposte To The Dreary Wail There's No Knowing What Love Is All About. Poets Know A Lot.

He Is All Pine And I Am Apple Orchard. My Apple Trees Will Never Get Across And Eat The Cones Under His Pines, I Tell Him. He Only Says, "good Fences Make Good Neighbors.

The Ear Is The Only True Writer And The Only True Reader.

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?