It will not change now After so many years; Life has not broken it With parting or tears; Death will not alter it, It will live on In all my songs for you When I am gone.
LOVE - what is love? A great and aching heart; Wrung hands; and silence; and a long despair. Life - what is life? Upon a moorland bare To see love coming and see love depart.
Above the tower -- a lone, twice-sized moon. On the cold river passing night-filled homes, It scatters restless gold across the waves. On mats, it shines richer than silken gauze.
Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars, Not yet flawed, it drifts. Pine and cinnamon Spreading in my old garden . . . All light, All ten thousand miles at once in its
Why make so much of fragmentary blue In here and there a bird, or butterfly, Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye, When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)-- Though some savants make earth include the sky; And blue so far above us comes so high, It only gives our wish for blue a whet.