But yield who will to their separation$$$<br>My object in living is to unite<br>My avocation and my vocation<br>As my two eyes make one in sight.

Possessing what we still were unpossessed by$$$<br>Possessed by what we now no more possessed.

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.

I dwell in a lonely house I know<br>That vanished many a summer ago.

I hold with those who favor fire.<br>But if it had to perish twice$$$<br>I think I know enough of hate<br>To know that for destruction ice<br>Is also great.

You$$$ of course$$$ are a rose--But were always a rose.

The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength. To feel the earth as rough to all my length.

I believe in teaching$$$ but I don't believe in going to school.

You're always believing ahead of your evidence. What was the evidence I could write a poem? I just believed it. The most creative thing in us is to believe in a thing.

Could I get mansions covering ten thousand miles$$$ I'd house all the poor scholars and make them beam with smiles.