Contraction
Honest self-scrutiny too easily mutinies,
mutates into false memories
Which find language a receptive host, . . .
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Cool Tombs
When Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin ... in the dust, in the cool tombs.
And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, cash and collateral turned ashes ... in the dust, in the cool tombs.
. . .
The Craftsman
I ply with all the cunning of my art
This little thing, and with consummate care
I fashion it—so that when I depart,
Those who come after me shall find it fair . . .
The Cross of Snow
In the long, sleepless watches of the night,
A gentle face — the face of one long dead —
Looks at me from the wall, where round its head . . .
Crossing the Bar
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar, . . .
