Tall Ambrosia
Among the signs of autumn I perceive
The Roman wormwood (called by learned men
Ambrosia elatior, food for gods,— . . .
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Testimonial
Back when the earth was new
and heaven just a whisper,
back when the names of things . . .
Their Bodies
That gaunt old man came first, his hair as white
As your scoured tables. Maybe you’ll recollect him
By the scars of steelmill burns on the backs of his hands, . . .
There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House
There’s been a Death, in the Opposite House,
As lately as Today —
I know it, by the numb look
. . .
These Poems, She Said
These poems, these poems,
these poems, she said, are poems
with no love in them. These are the poems of a man . . .
They Flee From Me
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
. . .
This Most Perfect Hill
On this most perfect hill
with these most perfect dogs
are these most perfect people . . .
Those Winter Sundays
Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached . . .
Thou Art My Lute
Thou art my lute, by thee I sing,—
My being is attuned to thee.
Thou settest all my words a-wing, . . .
Thoughts in a Zoo
They in their cruel traps, and we in ours,
Survey each other’s rage, and pass the hours
Commiserating each the other’s woe, . . .
