Less passionate the long war throw… its burning thorn about all men, caught in one grief, we share one… and cry one dialect of pain. We have forgot who fired the house…
Behold the apples’ rounded worlds: juice-green of July rain, the black polestar of flowers, the… mapped with its crimson stain. The russet, crab and cottage red
If ever I saw blessing in the air I see it now in this still early d… Where lemon-green the vaporous mor… Wet sunlight on the powder of my e… Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky…
Tonight the wind gnaws With teeth of glass, The jackdaw shivers In caged branches of iron, The stars have talons.
Far-fetched with tales of other wo… My skin well-oiled with wines of t… I set my face into a filial smile To greet the pale, domestic kiss o… But shall I never learn? That gaw…
The girl’s far treble, muted to th… calls like a fainting bird across… to where her flock lies panting fo… their black horns buried deep in m… They climb awake, like drowsy butt…
On eves of cold, when slow coal fi… rooted in basements, burn and bran… brushing with smoke the city air; When quartered moons pale in the s… and neons glow along the dark
Tonight the wind gnaws with teeth… The jackdaw shivers in caged branc… The stars have talons There is hunger in the mouth of vo… Silver agonies of breath in the no…
I was set down from the carrier’s… The June grass, amongst which I s… I was lost and didn’t know where t… For the first time in my life I w… From this daylight nightmare I wa…
Eyeing the grass for mushrooms, yo… A stone or stain, a dandelion puff Deceive your eyes—their colour is… To plump the image out to mushroom… And lead you through illusion to a…
Three jets are streaking west: Trails are beginning to fray alrea… The third, the last set out, Climbs parallel a March sky Paying out a ruled white line:
They say it is waiting for more, t… Shrunk up to the shadow-line of wa… In an arctic smouldering, an uncle… And will not go until the frost re… Sharpening the stars, and the fres…
I have climbed blind the way down… (How faint the phosphorescence of… On nights when not a light showed… And nothing marked the line of sky… Only the beating of the heart defi…
Swifts do not sing: what they do well is sleep on the wing, moving always higher and higher in their almost entirely
Trees in this landscape signal the presence of a river. A side road leads us on— parched grass, a rock horizon— and winds us towards
I know this rose is only an ink-and-paper rose but see how it grows and goes on growing
Too little has been said of the door, its one face turned to the night’s downpour and its other
THIS last denial of my faith, Thou, solemn Priest, hast heard; And, though upon my bed of death, I call not back a word. Point not to thy Madonna, Priest,…
THE human heart has hidden treasu… In secret kept, in silence sealed;… The thoughts, the hopes, the dream… Whose charms were broken if reveal… And days may pass in gay confusion…
SHE will not sleep, for fear of d… But, rising, quits her restless be… And walks where some beclouded bea… Of moonlight through the hall are… Obedient to the goad of grief,
ABOVE the city hung the moon, Right o’er a plot of ground Where flowers and orchard—trees we… With lofty walls around: 'Twas Gilbert’s gardenthere, to—…
LIFE, believe, is not a dream So dark as sages say; Oft a little morning rain Foretells a pleasant day. Sometimes there are clouds of gloo…
ARRANGING long—locked drawers… Of cabinets, shut up for years, What a strange task we’ve set ours… How still the lonely room appears! How strange this mass of ancient t…
There’s no use in weeping, Though we are condemned to part: There’s such a thing as keeping A remembrance in one’s heart: There’s such a thing as dwelling
SOME have won a wild delight, By daring wilder sorrow; Could I gain thy love to-night, I’d hazard death to-morrow. Could the battle-struggle earn
I’ve quenched my lamp, I struck i… Which every limb convulsed, I hea… The crash blent with my sleep, I… Its light, even as I woke, on yon… Over against my bed, there shone a…
A Short Poem or Else Not Say I True pleasure breathes not city ai… Nor in Art’s temples dwells, In palaces and towers where The voice of Grandeur dwells.
NOT in scorn do I reprove thee, Not in pride thy vows I waive, But, believe, I could not love th… Wert thou prince, and I a slave. These, then, are thine oaths of pa…
' SISTER, you’ve sat there all… Come to the hearth awhile; The wind so wildly sweeps away, The clouds so darkly pile. That open book has lain, unread,
Long ago I wished to leave “The house where I was born;” Long ago I used to grieve, My home seemed so forlorn. In other years, its silent rooms
