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Poetry

A View of the Wilderness

Snow whitens mountains westward and the forts of three cities,
Waters from the southern lakes flash on miles of bridge;
Wind and dust from sea to sea shut me from my brothers;

Mercy

Like two wrestlers etched
around some ancient urn,

we’d lace our hands, then wrench
each other’s wrists back

The Cycle

Dark water, underground, Beneath the rock and clay, Beneath the roots of trees, Moved into common day, Rose from a mossy mound In mist that sun could seize. The fine rain coiled in a cloud Turned by revolving air Far from that colder source Where el [...]

Canto

Cuando todos los siglos vuelven,
anocheciendo, a su belleza,
sube al ambito universal
la unidad honda de la tierra.

Poem to Death

PERMIT the stubborn bone that hives content and sorrow, rage and dream, foreknowledge of the blow that drives apart the cunning-jointed seam. Permit the doomed skull time to free the brain's bright swarm of gold and black: let air reclaim each velvet [...]

Sanctuary in Porcelain

With Elinor Wylie the poet—I mean, with the poet who wrote in verse—I plan no traffic. I can find in her verses nothing very remarkable, but then that has for many years been my attitude toward everyone's verses, all the long way from Hesiod's and Pindar's to Mr. Edgar Guest's and my own.

Deserted Hills

This land is heavy with sleeping generations
Of young forefathers who thrust back the hills
And cleared their pastures of blackberry blossoms, planting

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