A poem . . . begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. . . . It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Source: Letter to Louis Untermeyer, January 1, 1916
Contributed by: Zaady
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Source: Acquainted with the Night, 1928
There's nothing I'm afraid of like scared people.
An idea is a feat of association.
Any eye is an evil eye That looks in on to a mood apart.
Source: A Mood Apart, 1947
The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.
Source: To Earthward, 1923
The brain is a wonderful organ. It starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.
Have I not walked without an upward look Of caution under stars that very well Might not have missed me when they shot and fell? It was a risk I had to take-and took.
Source: Bravado, 1947
Far in the pillared dark Thrush music went- Almost like a call to come in To the dark and lament. But no, I was out for stars: I would not come in. I meant not even if asked, And I hadn't been.
Source: Come In, 1942
The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.
Source: Home Burial, 1914
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