Once we dreamt that we were strangers. We wake up to find that we were dear to each other.

I'll never wake up in a good mood again. I'm tired of these stinky boots.

To the birds you gave songs, the birds gave you songs in return. You gave me only a voice, yet asked for more, thus I sing.

They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true.

In spring more mortal singers than belongTo any one place cover us with song.Thrush, bluebird, blackbird, sparrow, and robin throng.

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.