Whose woods there are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a

I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear

The night is black, The town is black, The falling snow at night Is white, The falling snow at night Is white on black. The man is black, The town is black, The black man Seeks refuge fr

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne! And surely ye’ll be your pint stowp! And surely I’ll be mine! And we’ll t

Much Madness is divinest Sense- To a discerning Eye- Much Sense- the starkest Madness- ’Tis the Majority In this, as All, prevail- Assent- and you are sane- Demur- you’re straightway dangerous-

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that

If you make a revolution, make it for fun, don’t make it in ghastly seriousness, don’t do it in deadly earnest, do it for fun. Don’t do it because you hate people, Don’t do it for equality, d

Alone, in silence, at a certain time of night, Listening, and looking up from what I’m trying to write, I hear a local train along the Valley. And “There Goes the one-fifty,” think I to myself; aware

I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman- I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig-headed father; I am old enough now to make friends. It was you who broke the n