Forgetfulness is like a song That, freed from beat and measure, wanders
Forgetfulness is like a bird whose wings are reconciled,
Outspread and motionless, — A bird that coasts the wind unwearyingly
Forgetfulness is rain at night,
As silent as a mirror is
Realities plunge in silence by
I met a man in South Street, tall— a nervous shark tooth swung on his chain
His eyes pressed through green glass —green glasses, or bar lights made them so— shine—
EN— eyes— stepped out—forgot to look at you or left you several blocks aw...
"And so we may arrive by Talmud skill And profane Greek to raise the building up Of Helen's house against the Ismaelite,
King of Thogarma, and his habergeons Brimstony, blue and fiery; and the force Of King A baddon, and the beast of Cit...
There are no stars to-night But those of memory
Yet how much room for memory there is In the loose girdle of soft rain
There is even room enough For the letters of my mother's mother,
Elizabeth,
We will make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random
As the wind
In slithered and too ample pockets
It sheds a shy solemnity,
This lamp in our poor room
O grey and gold amenity, —Silence and gentle gloom
Wide from the world, a stolen
Sinuously winding through the room On smokey tongues of sweetened cigarettes, — Plaintive yet proud the cello tones resume The andante of smooth hopes and lost regrets
Bright peacocks drink from flame-pots by the wall,
Just as absinthe-s...
My hands have not touched pleasure since your hands, —No, — nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell',
And with the day, distance again
Voiceless between us, as an uncoiled shell
Yet, love endures, though starving and alone
Moonmoth and grasshopper that flee our page And still wing on, untarnished of the name We pinion to your bodies to assuage Our envy of your freedom—we must maim Because we are usurpers, and chagrined— And take the wing and scar it in the hand
My hands have not touched water since your hands, -No; - nor my lips freed laughter since 'farewell'
And with the day, distance again
Between us, voiceless as an uncoiled shell
Yet, - much follows, much endures… Trust birds alone:
The host, he says that all is
And the fire-wood glow is bright;
The food has a warm and tempting smell,-But on the window licks the night
Pile on the logs