All Sense Of Hearing And Of Sight

Every Great Poem Is In Itself Limited By Necessity, But In Its Suggestions Unlimited And Infinite.

However Things May Seem, No Evil Thing Is Success And No Good Thing Is Failure.

Winter Giveth The Fields, And The Trees So Old, Their Beards Of Icicles And Snow.

Two Ways The Rivers Leap Down To Different Seas, And As They Roll Grow Deep And Still, And Their Majestic Presence Becomes A Benefaction To The Towns They Visit, Wandering Silently Among Them, Like Patriarchs Old Among Their Shining Tents.

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall.