Whose Woods These Are I Think I

At Bottom The World Isn't A Joke. We Only Joke About It To Avoid An Issue With Someone, To Let Someone Know That We Know He's There With His Questions; To Disarm Him By Seeming To Have Heard And Done Justice To His Side Of The Standing Argument.

Summary Riposte To The Dreary Wail There's No Knowing What Love Is All About. Poets Know A Lot.

When The Spent Sun Throws Up Its Rays On Cloud And Goes Down Burning Into The Gulf Below, No Voice In Nature Is Heard To Cry Aloud At What Has Happened. Birds, At Least Must Know It Is The Change To Darkness In The Sky. Murmuring Something Quiet In Her Breast, One Bird Begins To Close A Faded Eye; Or Overtaken Too Far From His Nest, Hurrying Low Above The Grove, Some Waif Swoops Just In Time To His Remembered Tree. At Most He Thinks Or Twitters Softly, 'safe! Now Let The Night Be Dark For All Of Me. Let The Night Be Too Dark For Me To See Into The Future. Let What Will Be, Be.

What You Want, What You're Hanging Around In The World Waiting For, Is For Something To Occur To You.

The Only Way Round Is Through.