«I’ve written down the words / That I’ve not dared to speak. / My body’s strangely dumb. / Dully my head beats. The horn cries have died. / The heart’s still confused. / On the croquet lawn, light / Autumn snowflakes fused. Let the last leaves rustle! / Let last thoughts torme...»
«I came here, in idleness. / Where I’m bored: all the same to me! / A sleepy hilltop mill, yes, / Here years pass silently. Over convolvulus gone dry / The bee swims past, ahead, / I call to that mermaid by / The pond: the mermaid’s dead. Thick with mud, and rusted, / The wide pon...»
«Oh, I’ve not locked the door, / I’ve not lit the candles, / You know I’m too tired / To think of sleep. See, how the fields die down, / In the sunset gloom of firs, / And I’m drunk on the sound / Of your voice, echoing here. It’s fine, that all’s black, / That life’s ...»
«I speak those words, today, that come / Only once, born in the spirit. / Bees hum on white chrysanthemum: / There’s the must of an old sachet. And the room, with narrow windows, / Preserves love, remembers the past. / Over the bed a French script flows: / It reads: "Lord, have mercy o...»