Gnats and an ant have gnawed your… You who could spring and sprawl on… Down half the meadow. Under tiny… The ant has stored your essence.… You stitched the air with level da…

Winter put his shoulder To our door, Nights are turning colder More and more; We are old–or older

In the old days At barn raisings After they worked together They danced together. So lay the floor, Americans,

Now I am slow and placid, fond of… Like a sleek beast, or a worn one, No slim and languid girl – not gla… With the windy trip I once had, But velvet-footed, musing of my ow…

Put her away some place between tw… Away from the sea and the sun. She has so much to think of–must s… On your bright bosom always, Moth… Put her away, and let some other b…

Other hearts have broken gracefull… And now your eyes reproach me that… Is awkward, and my arms Are angular across my breast Where emptiness is pressed.

Out of the forest, panther, come, Silken, supple, silent, lone– Out of the forest, drooped with ni… To your delight. Under bloom and over stone,

A middle class fortress in which t… Draw down the curtain as if saying… While noon’s ablaze, ablaze outsid… And outside people work and sweat And the day clings by and the hard…

Only to tell your loveliness–this… Only to tell Pain’s odor, beauty-burning miracl… Of my surrender! Late I flew...

Leave me alone a little! Must I be yours, When all my heart is pouring with… Out to the moon’s impersonal majes… Leave me alone! My little vow end…

These were his songs. Now he has… All he has made, that has he also… Seeing my beauty budding, broke th… Finding his likeness here, where h… Finding the flame of his hurt spir…

What husks of last year’s winter c… To-morrow’s world–what dead, what… Of ancient parchments, laws, belie… Worn, tattered layers keep the lif… Where slender as a sword, and tend…

Up that thin river, going over san… Down that deep river, purple to th… My fingers fire; cool your quiet h… And your voice sad, and mine the a… So, silver-thin, the flute-like ru…

Only a few hours! We danced like wind, Our faces like noon flowers, On one slim stem were lifted, turn… You flew, I followed, matched you…

Men go to women mutely for their p… And they, who lack it most, create… They make–because they must, lovin… A solace for sad bosom-bended head… Is all the meager peace men get–no…