«The gay day flames. The grass is still. / Like greedy impotence, poppies rise, / like lips that lust and poison fill, / like wings of scarlet butteflies. The gay day flames... The garden now / is empty. Lust and feast are done. / Like heads of hags, the poppies bow / beneath the bright ...»
«Mist climbs from the lake. / Fields bare after harvest. / Beyond blue hills / the sun rolls to its rest. Splintered, deep in ruts, / the weary road thinks / it cannot be long now / till grey-haired winter. In the misty, resonant grove / I watched yesterday / as a bay moon, like a f...»
«The sower walks down the even furrows; / his fathers all furrowed the path he follows. The young seed glitters gold in his hand, / but it must fall into the black ground. There, amid the tunnels of the blind worm, / it will die on its due day – and grow again. So now my soul treads the pa...»
«At the peep o day in the lift forgether / bonnie cloods like a steepled toun, / wi mony a dome like a bubble o gowd / and white roofs and white waas blinterin doun. O yon is my ain white city — / or I came to the earth I bade there! / abune the derk warld quhile it sleeps / in the rei...»