Live not for Battles Won.Live not for The-End-of-the-Song. Live in the along.

We real cool. We Left school. We Lurk late. We Strike straight. We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.

Poetry is life distilled.

Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.And be it gash or gold it will not comeAgain in this identical disguise.

Say to them,say to the down-keepers,the sun-slappers,the self-soilers,the harmony-hushers,"Even if you are not ready for dayit cannot always be night."You will be right.For that is the hard home-run.Live not for battles won.Live not for the-end-of-the-song.Live in the along.

When you read a poem, you may not get out of it all that the poet put into it, but you are different from the poet. You’re different from everybody else who is going to read the poem, so you should take from it what you need. Use it personally.

Well, life has been a baffled vehicleAnd baffling. But she fights, andHas fought, according to her lights andThe lenience of her whirling-place.She fights with semi-folded arms,Her strong bag, and the stiffFrost of her face (that challenges "When" and "If.")And altogether she does Rather Well.

It was Mabbie without the grammar school gates.And Mabbie was all of seven.And Mabbie was cut from a chocolate bar. And Mabbie thought life was heaven.

People who have no children can be hard: Attain a mail of ice and insolence: