The first sorrow of autumn ( Read more... )

On the green plains of Kent, on the Canterbury Road ( Read more... )

When the evening enters water,
the clear interior stained
and all in fire its minor sky;

when the sun like melted solder
burns into the green,
delineates the bones of each leaf;

the tree feels nothing,
the lake is not in pain,
this strange light is not a cry.

Nor does darkness bring relief.

Beloved, let us once more praise the rain ( Read more... )

So gradual in those summers was the going ( Read more... )

When I was beginning to read I imagined ( Read more... )

If ever we see those gardens again ( Read more... )

If I could reach you now, in any way ( Read more... )

On certain nights, when everyone is sleeping ( Read more... )

Last night, in the dark, something ( Read more... )