Nurse, who peppered baby's face
(She mistook it for a muffin),
Held her tongue and kept her place,
'Laying low and sayin' nuffin'';
Mother, seeing baby blinded,
Said, 'Oh, nurse, how absent-minded!'
In this time and place, where "Bread and Circuses" has
become "Bread and Atrocities," to say 'I love you' is
like saying the latest propaganda phrase...'defoliation'...
'low yield blast'.
If bombing children is preserving peace, then
my fucking you is a war-crime.
Since number needs, let our convention be
More large and simple here, more profitably free.
Franske Snørliv — — Dog du veed
nok hvortil jeg sigter.
Boer Du paa det høie Fjeld,"
synger Du som Digter.
Stuff of the moon
Runs on the lapping sand
Out to the longest shadows.
Under the curving willows,
And round the creep of the wave line,
Fluxions of yellow and dusk on the waters
Make a wide dreaming pansy of an old pond in the night.
You ask me when I am coming. I do not know.
I dream of your mountains and autumn pools brimming all night with the rain.
Oh, when shall we be trimming wicks again, together in your western window?
When shall I be hearing your voice again, all night in the rain?
823
Not that We did, shall be the test
When Act and Will are done
But what Our Lord infers We would
Had We diviner been—
685
Not "Revelation"—'tis—that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes—
Not "Revelation"—'tis—that waits,
But our unfurnished eyes—
931
Noon—is the Hinge of Day—
Evening—the Tissue Door—
Morning—the East compelling the sill
Till all the World is ajar—
