Nothing Gold Can Stay.

Ends And Beginnings—there Are No Such Things. There Are Only Middles.

The Sun Was Warm But The Wind Was Chill. You Know How It Is With An April Day.

When Clever People Ask Me Where I Get A Poem, I Despair.

If Society Fits You Comfortably Enough, You Call It Freedom.

Lovers, Forget Your Love And List To The Love Of These She A Window Flower And He A Winter Breeze.