You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,

Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue

This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...

Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway

The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go

Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…

From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor

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

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn

This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields