Abandoned Farmhouse

He was a big man, says the size of his shoes
on a pile of broken dishes by the house;
a tall man too, says the length of the bed . . .

Across the Bay

A queer thing about those waters: there are no

Birds there, or hardly any.

I did not miss them, I do not remember

Missing them, or thinking it uncanny. . . .

Actaeon

The hounds, you know them all by name.
You fostered them from purblind whelps
At their dam’s teats, and you have come . . .

The Affliction of Richard

Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
And dost thy gifts bestow, . . .

After a Rainstorm

Because I have come to the fence at night,
the horses arrive also from their ancient stable.
They let me stroke their long faces, and I note . . .

The Albatross

When I know you are coming home
I put on this necklace:
glass beads on a silken thread, . . .

All Hallows’ Eve

Be perfect, make it otherwise.
Yesterday is torn in shreds.
Lightning’s thousand sulfur eyes . . .

“Alone”

From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were—I have not seen
As others saw—I could not bring . . .

The Alphabet

The letters of the Jews as strict as flames
Or little terrible flowers lean
Stubbornly upwards through the perfect ages, . . .

America

Although she feeds me bread of bitterness,
And sinks into my throat her tiger’s tooth,
Stealing my breath of life, I will confess . . .