My Definition Of Poetry (if

O Hushed October Morning Mild, Begin The Hours Of This Day Slow, Make The Day Seem To Us Less Brief... Retard The Sun With Gentle Mist; Enchant The Land With Amethyst.

It Should Be Of The Pleasure Of A Poem Itself To Tell How It Can. The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom. The Figure Is The Same For Love.

Courage Is Of The Heart By Derivation, And Great It Is. But Fear Is Of The Soul.

Talking Is A Hydrant In The Yard And Writing Is A Faucet Upstairs In The House. Opening The First Takes The Pressure Off The Second.

The Nearest Friends Can Go With Anyone To Death, Comes So Far Short They Might As Well Not Try To Go At All.