Quotes About Change

For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.

Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.

For, dear me, why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true? Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt It will turn true again, for so it goes. Most of the change we think we see in life Is due to truths being in and out of favor. As I sit here, and often times, I wish I could be monarch of a desert land I could devote and dedicate forever To the truths we keep coming back and back to. ––from The Black Cottage

They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true.

I never dared be radical when young For fear it would make me conservative when old

The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.

No, this is no beginning. Then an end? End is a gloomy word.

Door in the Dark: In going from room to room in the dark, I reached out blindly to save my face, But neglected, however lightly, to lace My fingers and close my arms in an arc. A slim door got in past my guard, And hit me a blow in the head so hard I had my native simile jarred. So people and things don't pair any more With what they used to pair with before.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still, No longer blown hither and thither; The last lone aster is gone; The flowers of the witch hazel wither; The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question 'Whither?' Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season?

A Late Walk - A Tree beside the wall stands bare, But a leaf that lingered brown, Disturbed, I doubt not, by my thought, comes softly rattling down. I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower to carry again to you.

But the flower leaned aside And thought of naught to say, And morning found the winter breeze A hundred miles away.

why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall that sends the frozen ground swell under it.

Who would you be, I wonder, by those marks If I had moths to friend as I have flowers?

Nothing gold can stay.

For, dear me, why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true. Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt It will turn true again, for so it goes. Most of the change we think we see in life Is due to truths being in and out of favor. As I sit here, and oftentimes, I wish I could be monarch of a desert land I could devote and dedicate forever To the truths we keep coming back and back to.

So dawn goes down to day/ nothing gold can stay.

The flowers of the witch hazel wither; The heart is still aching to seek, But the feet question 'Whither?' Ah, when tot the heart of man Was it ever less than a teason to go with the drift of things, to yield with a grace to reason, and bow and accept and accept the end of a love or a season?

Monotony? Have we not always had the same stars and the same sky above us, changing only in its shades of blue and gray and purple black? And who shall say that such themes are exhausted? Have we not always had love and passion, war and peace, summer and winter and spring and fall with us? And are these things unable longer to impel us to spiritual variations?

I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew— Only more sure of all I thought was true.

Nature's first green is gold

So dawn goes to day Nothing gold can stay

For, dear me, why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true? Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt It will turn true again, for so it goes. Most of the change we think we see in life Is due to truths being in and out of favor.

This saying good-by on the edge of the dark And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark Reminds me of all that can happen...