Nature's First Green Is Gold.

Unless I'm Wrong I But Obey The Urge Of A Song: I'm-bound-away! And I May Return If Dissatisfied With What I Learn From Having Died.

What Are We? Young Or New? We Must Be Something.

It Is Absurd To Think That The Only Way To Tell If A Poem Is Lasting Is To Wait And See If It Lasts. The Right Reader Of A Good Poem Can Tell The Moment It Strikes Him That He Has Taken An Immortal Wound-that He Will Never Get Over It.

Man That Is Of Woman Born Is Apt To Be As Vain Has His Mother.

Yet Some Say Love By Being Thrall And Simply Staying Possesses All In Several Beauty That Thought Fares Far To Find Fused In Another Star.