I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again
by Carl Sandburg
HOW much do you love me, a million bushels?
Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more.
And to-morrow maybe only half a bushel?
To-morrow maybe not even a half a bushel.
And is this your heart arithmetic?
This is the way the wind measures the weather.