The Heads Of Strong Old Age Are

...science And Mathematics Run Parallel To Reality, They Symbolize It, They Squint At It, They Never Touch It: Consider What An Explosion Would Rock The Bones Of Men Into Little White Fragments And Unsky The World If Any Mind For A Moment Touch Truth.

Well: The Day Is A Poem But Too Much Like One Of Jeffers's, Crusted With Blood And Barbaric Omens Painful To Excess, Inhuman As A Hawk's Cry.

And You, America, That Passion Made You. You Were Not Born To Prosperity, You Were Born To Love Freedom. You Did Not Say "en Masse," You Said "independence." But We Cannot Have All The Luxuries And Freedom Also.

Death's A Fierce Meadowlark: But To Die Having Made / Something More Equal To The Centuries / Than Muscle And Bone, Is Mostly To Shed Weakness.

Know That However Ugly The Parts Appear The Whole Remains Beautiful.