The world is full of willing people, some willing to work, the rest willing to let them. - Robert Frost

Part of a moon was falling down the west,
Dragging the whole sky with it to the hills.
Its light poured softly in her lap. She saw
And spread her apron to it. She put out her hand
Among the harp-like morning-glory strings,
Taut with the dew from garden bed to eaves,
As if she played unheard the tenderness
That wrought on him beside her in the night.

The land may vary more; But wherever the truth may be — The water comes ashore, And the people look at the sea.

I would not come in.
I meant not even if asked,
And I hadn't been.