BACKWARD, turn backward, O Time, in your flight,
Make me a child again just for to-night! 
Mother, come back from the echoless shore, 
Take me again to your heart as of yore; 
Kiss from my forehead the furrows of care,         
Smooth the few silver threads out of my hair; 
Over my slumbers your loving watch keep;

Rock me to sleep, mother,—rock me to sleep!

Nothing is but nothing

something it is not

nil plus nil is nothing

nothing's what I got.

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

I KEEP six honest serving-men
(They taught me all I knew);
Their names are What and Why and When
And How and Where and Who.

O Winter! frozen pulse and heart of fire,
What loss is theirs who from thy kingdom turn
Dismayed, and think thy snow a sculptured urn 
Of death!  

'Twas the night before Christmas and Santa's a wreck...
How to live in a world that's politically correct?
His workers no longer would answer to "Elves".
"Vertically Challenged" they were calling themselves.
And labour conditions at the North Pole
were alleged by the union to stifle the soul.