Let us walk in the white snow In a soundless space; With footsteps quiet snd slow, At a tranquil pace, Under veils of white lace.

It is not heaven: bitter seed Leavens its entrails with despair It is a star where dragons breed: Devils have a footing there. The sky has bent it out of shape;

As I was lying in my bed I heard the church-bell ring; Before one solemn word was said A bird began to sing. I heard a dog begin to bark

When against earth a wooden heel Clicks as loud as stone on steel, When stone turns flour instead of… And frost bakes clay as fire bakes… When the hard-bitten fields at las…

Man, the egregious egoist (In mystery the twig is bent) Imagines, by some mental twist, That he alone is sentient Of the intolerable load

For this you’ve striven Daring, to fail: Your sky is riven Like a tearing veil. For this, you’ve wasted

First Traveller: What’s that lyin… Second Traveller: A crooked stick… First Traveller: What’s it worth,… Second Traveller: Isn’t this a ri… First Traveller: No, a trick.

Alembics turn to stranger things Strange things, but never while we… Shall magic turn this bronze that… To singing water in a sieve. The trumpets of Cæsar’s guard

A white well In a black cave; A bright shell In a dark wave. A white rose

When foxes eat the last gold grape… And the last white antelope is kil… I shall stop fighting and escape Into a little house I’ll build. But first I’ll shrink to fairy si…

Liza, go steep your long white han… In the cool waters of that spring Which bubbles up through shiny san… The colour of a wild-dove’s wing. Dabble your hands, and steep them…

When the world turns completely up… You say we’ll emigrate to the Eas… Aboard a river-boat from Baltimor… We’ll live among wild peach trees,… You’ll wear a coonskin cap, and I…

Upbroke the sun In red-gold foam; Thus spoke the gun At the Soldier’s Home: “Whenever I hear

Once upon a time I heard That the flying moon was a Phoeni… Thus she sails through windy skies… Thus in the willow’s arms she lies… Turn to the East or turn to the W…

Poets make pets of pretty, docile… I love smooth words, like gold-ena… Which circle slowly with a silken… And tender ones, like downy-feathr… Words shy and dappled, deep-eyed d…