He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors'. Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder If I could put a notion in his head: 'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it Where there are cows? But here there are no cows. Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and- In the tall, dried grasses a goat stirs with nozzle searching the ground. My head is in the air but who am I . . . ? -and my heart stops amazed at the thought of love vast and grey yearning silently over me.