Prison Song
The skin ripples over my body like moon-wooed water,
rearing to escape me. Where could it find another
animal as naked as the one it hates to cover?
. . .
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The Promise
Stay, I said
to the cut flowers.
They bowed . . .
Psalm
In the small beauty of the forest
The wild deer bedding down—
That they are there! . . .
The Pulley
When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
“Let us,” said he, “pour on him all we can.
. . .