«The embers sink to ashes. In the dusk / A small transparent flame is wavering; / Thus on a scarlet poppy will a moth / Flutter an azure wing. Drawn by a train of motley images, / The tired gaze is charmed, while all unclear, / Faces that alter as they flash and fade, / From the gray ash...»
«I know what fainting means, the heady sweetness / When the pain stops and dark comes in its stead; / And so quite fearlessly I can await you, / You night without a dawn, eternal bed. Your hand may touch my head, and from life’s records / You may expunge me, but I testify, / Before that ...»
«The wave knows no contentment / When parted from the sea, / Whether it rises gently / Or rushes savagely; It sighs ever and grumbles, / And whether bond or free, / It hungers for the boundless, / The fathomless blue sea.»
«And far and near the blizzard raced, / Through every endland. / A burning candle lit the place, / A burning candle. As to a swarm of summer moths / Are flame and glow, / The window frame attractive was / To flakes of snow. There on the pane a frosted fresque / Grew: circles, angles....»