Harold Hart Crane

Whose counted smile of hours and days, suppose I know as spectrum of the sea and pledge Vastly now parting gulf on gulf of wings Whose circles bridge,
I know, (from palms to the severe Chilled albatross's white immutability) No stream of grea...

How many dawns, chill from his rippling
The seagull's wings shall dip and pivot him,
Shedding white rings of tumult, building
Over the chained bay waters Liberty—Then, with inviolate curve, forsake our

We will make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random
As the wind
In slithered and too ample pockets

You who desired so much—in vain to ask—Yet fed you hunger like an endless task,
Dared dignify the labor, bless the quest—Achieved that stillness ultimately best,
Being, of all, least sought for:
Emily, hear

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

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...

Yes,
I beingthe terrible puppet of my dreams, shalllavish this on you-the dense mine of the orchid, split in two
And the fingernails that cinch suchenvirons
And what about the staunch neighbor tabulations,with all their zest for doom

—And yet this great wink of eternity,
Of rimless floods, unfettered leewardings,
Samite sheeted and processioned
Her undinal vast belly moonward bends,

Perspective never withers from their eyes;
They keep that docile edict of the Spring That blends March with August Antarctic skies:
These are but cows that see no other thing Than grass and snow, and their own inner being Through the ric...

As silent as a mirror is
Realities plunge in silence by

"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...

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