Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of

Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…

Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…

A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…

These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…