O Hushed October Morning Mild, Begin The

Far In The Pillared Dark Thrush Music Went- Almost Like A Call To Come In To The Dark And Lament. But No, I Was Out For Stars: I Would Not Come In. I Meant Not Even If Asked, And I Hadn't Been.

I Only Hope That When I Am Free, As They Are Free To Go In Quest, Of The Knowledge Beyond The Bounds Of Life, It May Not Seem Better To Me To Rest.

The Middle Of The Road Is Where The White Line Is - And That's The Worst Place To Drive.

You're Always Believing Ahead Of Your Evidence. What Was The Evidence I Could Write A Poem? I Just Believed It. The Most Creative Thing In Us Is To Believe In A Thing.

One Could Do Worse Than Be A Swinger Of Birches.