I Hope To Leave Behind A Few

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

The Master Speed No Speed Of Wind Or Water Rushing By But You Have Speed Far Greater. You Can Climb Back Up A Stream Of Radiance To The Sky, And Back Through History Up The Stream Of Time. And You Were Given This Swiftness, Not For Haste Nor Chiefly That You May Go Where You Will, But In The Rush Of Everything To Waste, That You May Have The Power Of Standing Still-- Off Any Still Or Moving Thing You Say. Two Such As You With Such A Master Speed From One Another Once You Are Agreed That Life Is Only Life Forevermore Together Wing To Wing And Oar To Oar.

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?

So When At Times The Mob Is Swayed To Carry Praise Or Blame Too Far, We May Choose Something Like A Star To Stay Our Minds On And Be Staid.

Scholars And Artists Thrown Together Are Often Annoyed At The Puzzle Of Where They Differ. Both Work From Knowledge; But I Suspectthey Differ Most Importantly In The Way Their Knowledge Is Come By. Scholars Get Theirs With Conscientious Thoroughness Along Projected Lines Of Logic; Poets Theirs Cavalierly And As It Happens In And Out Of Books. They Stick To Nothing Deliberately, But Let What Will Stick To Them Like Burrs Where They Walk In The Fields.