There Are Tones Of Voices That Mean

You've Got To Be Brave And You've Got To Be Bold. Brave Enough To Take Your Chance On Your Own Discrimination, What's Right And What's Wrong, What's Good And What's Bad.

My Sorrow, When She's Here With Me, Thinks These Dark Days Of Autumn Rain Are Beautiful As Days Can Be; She Loves The Bare, The Withered Tree; She Walks The Sodden Pasture Lane.

Out Alone In The Winter Rain, / Intent On Giving And Taking Pain.

An Idea Is A Feat Of Association.

It Is Absurd To Think That The Only Way To Tell If A Poem Is Lasting Is To Wait And See If It Lasts. The Right Reader Of A Good Poem Can Tell The Moment It Strikes Him That He Has Taken An Immortal Wound-that He Will Never Get Over It.