A Successful Lawsuit Is The One Worn

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark, And Deep But I Have Promises To Keep...

I Think I Know Enough Of Hate To Say That For Destruction Ice Is Also Great And Would Suffice.

Now No Joy But Lacks Salt That Is Not Dashed With Pain And Weariness And Fault; I Crave The Stain Of Tears, The Aftermark Of Almost Too Much Love, The Sweet Of Bitter Bark And Burning Clove.

The Style Is The Man. Rather Say The Style Is The Way The Man Takes Himself; And To Be At All Charming Or Even Bearable, The Way Is Almost Rigidly Prescribed. If It Is With Outer Seriousness, It Must Be With Inner Humor. If It Is With Outer Humor, It Must Be With Inner Seriousness. No Other Way Will Do.

Like A Piece Of Ice On A Hot Stove The Poem Must Ride On Its Own Melting.