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| Description: | I had to know the point to which the path was tracked and when the definition would cease to be my own |
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| Description: | The fast movement was a nervous reach for something west. But along the way there was no hurry. Wait for noontime, turned round to a movement eastward,<... |
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| Description: | If everything stopped dead — watches, tickers, hands — on every island something new would bloom and another age begin |
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| Description: | A working lifetime minted these good coins – every day devoted to circulating them through the same routine streets wore them thin into retirement |
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| Description: | The measure of solitude fades in the ripples and there are more prizes than there are fish |
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| Description: | The style of reachings, temporal or spiritual, for transformation of the earth. The chapel of Rockford Female Seminary, later Rockford College, 1889-1892... |
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| Description: | I'll show you all the imported graces and you shall see New Fontainebleau |
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| Description: | Well-scrubbed proprieties, in no danger except the possible over-minding of their own manners or being out-voted by Activists |
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| Description: | As though the tree inclined lacked discipline, pruned of its working part |
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| Description: | To some who want to leave it would be dull But to us who want to stay the moment is surprising: never lax only turning out of nowhere lastin... |
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| Description: | The fife and drum are not so innocent the vulture's eye is on the dance |
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| Description: | First-rate minds to write books, guide the young and lead the nation but the target runs close to the ground |
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| Description: | Rockford, Ill. J.H. Denison Editorial room of the Milwaukee Journal Probably the Black River at Black River Falls Children taug... |
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| Description: | Our side of the fence is all dovetail — where they winked and upset the story-book, that's over on your side |
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| Description: | In the letter was the hope that you were well For shorter hours A newer coat And Grace when there was any Grace to tell |
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| Description: | There used to be a quiet. It wasn't deafness, it was roses But they don't make it any more They think it was a toy |
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| Description: | Years ago, there was a man-sound from the hills, and a lifetime later its aged and legendary echo |
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| Description: | Everybody was wonderful Stars kept rising, pink and gold Trailing threads of breathless music barely out of reach Hand to hand around the n... |
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| Description: | Hang hope still higher, let it ring Spend every care this day for hope itself must decorate the dream |
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| Description: | We were promised, we were told that candy came in stripes and boxes But some was stacked, like lost rewards, the chocolate-coated paradoxes |
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