from A Song Among the Stonesfor two days they slept, dreamless ( Read more... )

Dirge Without MusicI am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground ( Read more... )

XVIITri-towers, Christ-silos, rise from, retract ( Read more... )

The ChoiceI walked with my reason ( Read more... )

No Swan So Fine"No water so still as the ( Read more... )

My parents kept me from children who were rough ( Read more... )

By the Round PondYou watch yourself. You watch the watcher too ( Read more... )

Bad Time for Poetry

Yes, I know: only the happy man
is liked. His voice
is good to hear. His face is handsome.

The crippled tree in the yard
shows that the soil is poor, yet
the passers-by abuse it for being crippled
and rightly so.
( Read more... )

Sleeping Out: Full MoonThey sleep within ( Read more... )

On The Difficulty Of Conjuring Up A Dryad

Ravening through the persistent bric-à-brac
Of blunt pencils, rose-sprigged coffee cup,
Postage stamps, stacked books' clamour and yawp,
Neighbourhood cockcrow-all nature's prodigal backtalk,
The vaunting mind
Snubs impromptu spiels of wind
And wrestles to impose
Its own order on what is.

( Read more... )