#English Modern
Making his advances He does not look at her, nor sniff… No, not even sniff at her, his nos… Only he senses the vulnerable fold… That work beneath her while she sp…
The new red houses spring like pla… In level rows Of reddish herbage that bristles a… Its square shadows. The pink young houses show one sid…
And who has seen the moon, who has… Her rise from out the chamber of t… Flushed and grand and naked, as fr… Of finished bridegroom, seen her r… Confession of delight upon the wav…
A faint, sickening scent of irises Persists all morning. Here in a j… A fine proud spike of purple irise… Rising above the class—room litter… To see the class’s lifted and bend…
Thought, I love thought. But not the juggling and twisting… I despise that self—important game… Thought is the welling up of unkno… Thought is the testing of statemen…
The little pansies by the road hav… Away their purple faces and their… And evening has taken all the bees… And all the scent is shed away by… Against the hard and pale blue eve…
You know what it is to be born alo… Baby tortoise! The first day to heave your feet l… Not yet awake, And remain lapsed on earth,
When the autumn roses Are heavy with dew, Before the mist discloses The leaf’s brown hue, You would, among the laughing hill…
Yours is the shame and sorrow, But the disgrace is mine; Your love was dark and thorough, Mine was the love of the sun for a… He creates with his shine.
This spring as it comes bursts up… Wild puffing of emerald trees, and… Thorn—blossom lifting in wreaths o… Where the wood fumes up and the wa… I am amazed at this spring, this c…
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead… without ever having felt sorry for…
Too far away, oh love, I know, To save me from this haunted road, Whose lofty roses break and blow On a night—sky bent with a load Of lights: each solitary rose,
Close your eyes, my love, let me m… They have taught you to see Only a mean arithmetic on the face… A cunning algebra in the faces of… And God like geometry
A YELLOW leaf from the darkness Hops like a frog before me. Why should I start and stand stil… I was watching the woman that bore… Stretched in the brindled darkness
Along the avenue of cypresses, All in their scarlet cloaks and su… Of linen, go the chanting choriste… The priests in gold and black, the… And all along the path to the ceme…