Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.

I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.

I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.

Nature... She pardons no mistakes. Her yea is yea, and her nay, nay.

Nature... She pardons no mistakes. Her yea is yea, and her nay, nay.

Nothing is rich but the inexhaustible wealth of nature. She shows us only surfaces, but she is a million fathoms read more

Nothing is rich but the inexhaustible wealth of nature. She shows us only surfaces, but she is a million fathoms deep.

Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no read more

Nature has no mercy at all. Nature says, "I'm going to snow. If you have on a bikini and no snowshoes, that's tough. I am going to snow anyway."

I've always regarded nature as the clothing of God.

I've always regarded nature as the clothing of God.

Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.

Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.

Constant dripping hollows out a stone.

Constant dripping hollows out a stone.

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways read more

Life has loveliness to sell, all beautiful and splendid things, blue waves whitened on a cliff, soaring fire that sways and sings, and children's faces looking up, holding wonder like a cup.