The moon not o be named
Going over, clear of all poetry,
The exhauster of the poetical
Faculties of our race, surrenderin
Of her fourth day rights, ignores

Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, yo
With your fresh thoughts care for,
Ah! as the heart grows older

The flame—red moon, the harvest mo
Rolls along the hills, gently boun
A vast balloon,
Till it takes off, and sinks upwar
To lie on the bottom of the sky, l

He loved her and she loved him
His kisses sucked out her whole pa
He had no other appetite
She bit him she gnawed him she suc
She wanted him complete inside her

At his begetting a Welsh adder
Declaiming in Ayrshire against Di
With the jewel of Ireland under i
Entered his mother and for nine mo
The ghost confronted her in doorwa

We sit late, watching the dark slo
No clock counts this.
When kisses are repeated and the a
There is no telling where time is.
It is midsummer: the leaves hang b

“No, the serpent did not
Seduce Eve to the apple.
All that’s simply
Corruption of the facts.
Adam ate the apple.

Freezing dusk is closing
Like a slow trap of steel
On trees and roads and hills and a
That can no longer feel.
But the carp is in its depth

A cool small evening shrunk to a d
And you listening.
A spider’s web, tense for the dew’
A pail lifted, still and brimming–
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

Between Westminster and sunstruck
The desert has entered the flea’s
Like shut—eyed half—submerged Nil
The buildings tremble with breath.
The mirage of river is so real