Good Poets Borrow, Great Poets Steal

I Have A Gumbie Cat In Mind, Her Name Is Jennyanydots;her Coat Is One Of The Tabby Kind,with Tiger Stripes And Lepard Spots.

A Heap Of Broken Images, Where The Sun Beats, And The Dead Tree Gives No Shelter, The Cricket No Relief, And The Dry Stone No Sound Of Water. Only There Is Shadow Under This Red Rock, (come In Under The Shadow Of This Red Rock), And I Will Show You Something Different From Either Your Shadow At Morning Striding Behind You Or Your Shadow At Evening Rising To Meet You; I Will Show You Fear In A Handful Of Dust.

We Can Say Of Shakespeare, That Never Has A Man Turned So Little Knowledge To Such Great Account.

Again I Must Remind You That A Dog's A Dog-a Cat's A Cat.

Genuine Poetry Can Communicate Before It Is Understood.