With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony.
Plain living and high thinking.
The good die first, and they whose hearts are dry as summer dust, burn to the socket.
A poet does not see or hear or feel things that others do not see or hear or feel. What makes a person a poet is the ability to recall what she has felt and seen and heard. And to relive it and describe it in such a way that others can then see and feel and hear again what they may have missed.
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher.
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.