Identifying Blank Verse Poetry

Something there is that doesn't love a wall.

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

The fog comes

on little cat feet.

It sits looking

over harbor and city

on silent haunches

and then moves on.

Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full!

One for the master, one for the dame,

And one for the little boy who lives down the lane.

Just turn me loose let me straddle my old saddle,

Underneath the western skies,

On my cayuse let me wander over yonder,

'Til I see the mountains rise.