It Looked As If A Night Of

The Best Way To Hate Is The Worst. 'tis To Find What The Hated Need, Never Mind Of What Actual Worth, And Wipe That Out Of The Earth. Let Them Die Of Unsatisfied Greed.

Sarcastic Science, She Would Like To Know, In Her Complacent Ministry Of Fear, How We Propose To Get Away From Here When She Has Made Things So We Have To Go Or Be Wiped Out. Will She Be Asked To Show Us How By Rocket We May Hope To Steer To Some Star Off There, Say, A Half Light-year Through Temperature Of Absolute Zero? Why Wait For Science To Supply The How When Any Amateur Can Tell It Now? The Way To Go Away Should Be The Same As Fifty Million Years Ago We Came- If Anyone Remembers How That Was I Have A Theory, But It Hardly Does.

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?

Of Course There Is Matter For Remark In Poems. Nobody Denies That. But It Must Be Solemnly Laid On Everybody In This World To Make His Own Observations And Remarks. That's What We Mean By Thinking, And That's About All We Mean. A Teacher Says To A Pupil "watch Me Notice A Few Things In The Next Few Months: Let's See You Notice A Few Things Too."

I Always Entertain Great Hopes.