For Hard It Is To Keep From

As A Confirmed Astronomer I'm Always For A Better Sky.

A Poem Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom.

You Know How Cunningly Mankind Is Planned: We Have One Loving And One Hating Hand. The Loving's Made To Hold Each Other Like, While With The Hating Other Hand We Strike.

The Reason Artists Show So Little Interest In Public Freedom Is Because The Freedom They've Come To Feel The Need Of Is A Kind No One Can Give Them They Can Scarce Attain The Freedom Of Their Own Material.

I'd Like To Go By Climbing A Birch Tree~ And Climb Black Branches Up A Snow-white Trunk Toward Heaven, Till The Tree Could Bear No More, But Dipped Its Top And Set Me Down Again. That Would Be Good Both Going And Coming Back. One Could Do Worse Than Be A Swinger Of Birches.