“The color of the flower has faded, while I lost myself in idle thought in this long rain / ”

“May I live to see the day when I long for the agony I feel now. / ”

“Swift waters parted by the jagged rocks are joined at river's end. / ”

“Oh, Death was never enemy of ours!We laughed at him, we leagued with him, old chum.No soldier's paid to kick against His powers.We laughed, knowing that better men would come,And greater wars: whe...”

“I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.”

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”