Statue of a Couple
Your hand, my wonder, is now icy cold. The purest light of the celestial dome Has burned me through. And now we are As two still plams lying in darlmess, As two black banks
Late Ripeness
Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a door opening in me and I entered The clarity of early morning. One after another my former lives were departing,
And Yet The Books
And yet the books will be there on the shelves, separate beings, That appeared once, still wet As shining chestnuts under a tree in autumn, And, touched, coddled, began to live In spite of