“If"If freckles were lovely, and day was night, And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie, Life would be delight,-- But things couldn't go right For in such a sad plight I wouldn't be I. If earth was heaven and now was hence, And past was present, and false was true, There might be some sense But I'd be in suspense For on such a pretense You wouldn't be you. If fear was plucky, and globes were square, And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee Things would seem fair,-- Yet they'd all despair, For if here was there We wouldn't be we.”

“You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.”

“I was too tired to think. I merely felt the town as a unique unreality. What was it? I knew -- the moon's picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous projection of the moon's sumptuous personality. This was a city of Pretend, created by the hypnotism of moonnight. -- Yet when I examined the moon she too seemed but a painting of a moon and the sky in which she lived a fragile echo of color. If I blew hard the whole shy mechanism would collapse gently with a neat soundless crash. I must not, or lose all.”

“let it go -- thesmashed word brokenopen vow orthe oath cracked lengthwise -- let it go itwas sworn togolet them go -- thetruthful liars andthe false fair friendsand the boths andneithers -- you must let them go theywere bornto golet all go -- thebig small middlingtall bigger reallythe biggest and allthings -- let all godearso comes love”

“You are tired,(I think)Of the always puzzle of living and doing;And so am I.Come with me, then,And we’ll leave it far and far away—(Only you and I, understand!)You have played,(I think)And broke the toys you were fondest of,And are a little tired now;Tired of things that break, and—Just tired.So am I.But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—Open to me!For I will show you the places Nobody knows,And, if you like,The perfect places of Sleep.Ah, come with me!I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,That floats forever and a day;I’ll sing you the jacinth songOf the probable stars;I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,Until I find the Only Flower,Which shall keep (I think) your little heartWhile the moon comes out of the sea.”

“i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows”

“i thank You God for most this amazingday:for the leaping greenly spirits of treesand a blue true dream of sky; and for everythingwhich is natural which is infinite which is yes(i who have died am alive again today,and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gaygreat happening illimitably earth)how should tasting touching hearing seeingbreathing any--lifted from the noof all nothing--human merely beingdoubt unimaginable You?(now the ears of my ears awake andnow the eyes of my eyes are opened)”