The Ballad Of The Children Of The Czar
1 The children of the Czar Played with a bouncing ball In the May morning, in the Czar’s garden, Tossing it back and forth. It fell among the flowerbeds Or fled to the north
Yeats Died Saturday In France
Yeats died Saturday in France. Freedom from his animal Has come at last in alien Nice, His heart beat separate from his will: He knows at last the old abyss Which always faced his
Saint, Revolutionist
Saint, revolutionist, God and sage know well, That there is a place Where that much-rung bell, The well-beloved body, And its sensitive face Must be sacrificed. There is, it seems, in this A something
In The Slight Ripple, The Mind Perceives The Heart
In the slight ripple, the fishes dart Like fingers, centrifugal, like wishes Wanton. And pleasures rise as the eyes fall Through the lucid water. The small pebble, The clear clay bottom, the white shell