The calloused grass lies hard Against the cracking plain: Life is a grayish stain; The salt-marsh hems my yard. Dry dikes rise hill on hill;

Snake River Country I now remembered slowly how I cam… I, sometime living, sometime with… Creeping by iron ways across the b… Wastes of Wyoming, turning in des…

Far out of sight forever stands th… Bounding the land with pale tranqu… When a small child, I watched it… At thirty miles or more. The visi… Lies in the eye, soft blue and far…

The young are quick of speech. Grown middle-aged, I teach Corrosion and distrust, Exacting what I must. A poem is what stands

The branches, jointed, pointing up and out, shine out like brass. Upon the heavy

From the high terrace porch I wat… No light appears, though dark has… Sunk from the cold and monstrous s… Lie naked but not light. The dark… Down the remoter gulleys; pooled,…

My mother Foresaw deaths And walked among Chrysanthemums, Winecolored,

Europe: 1944 as regarded from a great distance Impersonal the aim Where giant movements tend; Each man appears the same;

I could tell Of silence where One ran before Himself and fell Into silence

I, one who never speaks, Listened days in summer trees, Each day a rustling leaf. Then, in time, my unbelief Grew like my running—

Amid the iris and the rose, The honeysuckle and the bay, The wild earth for a moment goes In dust or weed another way. Small though its corner be, the we…

Beyond the steady rock the steady… In movement more immovable than st… Gathers and washes and is gone. I… A slow obscure metonymy of motion, Crumbling the inner barriers of th…

I was the patriarch of the shining… Of the blond summer and metallic g… Men vanished at the motion of my h… And when I beckoned they would co… The earth grew dense with grain at…