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The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

Why make so much of fragmentary blue In here and there a bird, or butterfly, Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye, When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?

But yield who will to their separation, My object in living is to unite My avocation and my vocation As my two eyes make one in sight. Only where love and need are one, And the work is play for mortal stakes, Is the deed ever really done For Heaven and the future's sakes.

Something we were withholding made us weak Until we found that it was ourselves.

Forgive me my nonsense as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.

The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day When the sun is out and the wind is still You're one month on in the middle of May. But if you so much as dare to speak, A cloud comes over the sunlit arch, A wind comes off a frozen peak, And you're two months back in the middle of March.

Happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length.

A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.

There is one thing more exasperating than a wife who can cook and won't, and that's the wife who can't and will.

Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can't, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.