from The Ruined Cottage [. . .] I looked round And near the door I saw an aged Man, Alone, and stretched upon the
1337: To Gerald Brenan Christmas Day 1922 [. . .] I have been thinking a great deal about what you say of writing novels. One
Man Carrying Thing The poem must resist the intelligence Almost successfully. Illustration: A brune figure in winter evening resists Identity. The thing he carries resists
A Silence past parentage or gender beyond sung vocables the slipped-between the so infinitesimal fault line a limitless interiority beyond the woven unicorn the maiden
What Are Years What is our innocence, what is our guilt? All are naked, none is safe. And whence is courage: the unanswered question, the
A Cold Spring — for Jane Dewey, Maryland Nothing is so beautiful as spring. — Hopkins A cold spring: the violet was flawed on the lawn.