But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one's going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air.
Suddenly, quietly, you realize that - from this moment forth - you will no longer walk through this life alone. Like a new sun this awareness arises within you, freeing you from fear, opening your life. It is the beginning of love, and the end of all that came before.
Every poem is a momentary stay against the confusion of the world.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate wilfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better.
And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world.
Love is an irresistable desire to be irresistably desired." "Poetry begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
A poet never takes notes. You never take notes in a love affair.
Ends and beginningsthere are no such things. There are only middles.
Earth's the right place for love. I don't know where it's likely to go better.
Lord, I have loved Your sky, Be it said against or for me, Have loved it clear and high, Or low and stormy....
Yet some say Love by being thrall And simply staying possesses all In several beauty that Thought fares far To find fused in another star.
Love has earth to which she clings....
There is no love. There's only love of men and women, love Of children, love of friends, of men, of God: Divine love, human love, parental love, Roughly discriminated for the rough.
Oh, come forth into the storm and rout And be my love in the rain.
Let those possess the land, and only those, Who love it with a love so strong and stupid That they may be abused and taken advantage of And made fun of by business, law, and art....
loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round
Summary riposte To the dreary wail There's no knowing what Love is all about. Poets know a lot.
You know how cunningly mankind is planned: We have one loving and one hating hand. The loving's made to hold each other like, While with the hating other hand we strike.
I'm not confused. I'm just well mixed.
My sorrow, when she's here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane.
Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?
It's a funny thing that when a man hasn't anything on earth to worry about, he goes off and gets married.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.
Poetry is a way of taking life by the throat.
The middle of the road is where the white line is - and that's the worst place to drive.
Thinking is not to agree or disagree. That's voting.
The afternoon knows what the morning never suspected.
We love the things we love for what they are.
You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father s. He's more particular. The father is always a Republican towards his son, and his mother's always a Democrat.
Many lovers have been divorced By having what is free enforced.
Something we were withholding made us weak, until we found it was ourselves.
Before I built a wall I'd ask to know what I was walling in or walling out.
How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?
Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.
If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
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.
Something there is that doesn't love a wall
We love things we love what they are.
Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze ...
Love is the irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.
This as it will be seen is other far / Than with brooks taken otherwhere in song. / We love the things we love for what they are.