The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and

This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...

Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet

The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was

I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter

Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine