And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the wo… - Robert Frost

The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree</p>Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.

Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.

O Star (the fairest one in sight) We grant your loftiness the right To some obscurity of cloud — It will not do to say of night, Since dark is what brings out your light. Some mystery becomes the proud. But to be wholly taciturn In your reserve is not allowed. Say something to us that we can learn By heart and when alone repeat. Say something! And it says "I burn."