«(Mosaic in a Moscow Cathedral) Thy face flushed red ‘gainst Batu’s fires, / That gruesome glower in eyes gone dead, / The rust-gold wings where faith respires / In sacred trepidation spread. Before thy stare in the Time of the Dread / Passed fools in skufia, tattered, worn, / Forever...»
«He passed the sloping garden, crunched through the grayish gravel, / Took note of reservoirs of water faraway marooned, / Sat on a bench and peered at Yaila mountain range that loomed / Beyond the new white house in sunglare-dazzle. Tail drooping, on one leg in bush nearby / Stood languis...»
«The tranquil gaze, your eyes so like a doe’s, / All in that gaze once loved so tenderly / On grievous days I cherish, keep, but slenderly, / For haze and mist your visage now enclose. The day will come when even sadness fades, / When reminiscence glitters, azure-blue, / In dreams with g...»
«I love to play the idle spy, / And watch, oblivious to all, / A swoop-flit swallow on the fly, / O’er pond as evening nears nightfall. Look there, see how she darts and skims / Along the lip of glazed-smooth mere; / I’m worried lest a ripple’s whims / Snatch up her blitzwing on th...»