Description:
Half RoundelI make no prayerFor the spoilt season,The weed of Eden.I make no prayer.Save us the greenIn the weed of time.
Now is November;In night uneasyNothing I say.I make no prayer.Save us from the waterThat washes us away.
What do I ponder?All smiled disguise,Lights in cold places,I make no prayer.Save us from airThat wears us loosely.
The leaf of summerTo cold has comeIn little time.I make no prayer.From earth deliverAnd the dark therein.
Now is no whisperThrough all the living.I speak to nothing.I make no prayer.Save us from fireConsuming up and down.
Evening with Lee Shore and Cliffs
Sea-shimmer, faint haze, and far out a birdDipping for flies or fish. Then, when overThat wide silk suddenly the shadowSpread skating, who turned with a shiverHigh in the rocks? And knew, then only, the waves'Layering patience: how they would follow after,After, dogged as sleep, to his inlandDreams, oh beyond the one lamb that criedIn the olives, past the pines' derision. And heardBehind him not the sea's gaiety… Read More
