If I a fancy take To black and blue, That fancy doth it beauty make.
Hark! She is called, the parting hour is come. Take thy farewell, poor world! Heaven must go home. . . .
Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers play, Yet long by the absence of the day.
Great little One! whose all-embracing birth Lifts Earth to Heaven, stoops Heaven to Earth.
And when life's sweet fable ends, soul and body part like friends; no quarrels, murmurs, no delay; a kiss, a sigh, and so away.
Eyes are vocal, tears have tongues, and there are words not made with lungs.
Two went to pray? Better to say one went to brag, the other to pray.
'Why risk?'" I responded. 'It should be, why not to risk?'
Action is movement with intelligence. The world is filled with movement. What the world needs is more conscious movement, more action.
Readers have to be sought out and won to the light of the page, poem by poem, one by one by one.
In life you can fall down 1000 times but the point is to have the willingness to stand up and to start again.