Ideas lose themselves as quickly as quail, and one must wing them the minute they rise out of the grass, or they are gone.Thomas F. Kennedy
- Here's to the day when it is May
And care as light as a feather,
When your little shoes and my big boots
Go tramping over the heather.
- A Toast.
- There paused to shut the door
A fellow called the Wind,
With mystery before,
And reticence behind.
- At the Granite Gate.
- The glad indomitable sea,
The strong white sun.
- A Sea Child.