Spring is Not our Mating Season

Spring is Not our Mating Season

I will not kiss you, country fashion, By hedgesides where Weasel and hare Claim kinship with our passion….   This bare clay-pit is truest setting For love like ours: No bed of flowers But sand-ledge for our petting.   The Spring is not our mating...

Recovered Greenness

How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are thy returns! ev’n as the flowers of spring; To which, beside their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring. Grief melts away Like snow in May, As if there were no such thing.   Who would have thought my...
Water into Wine

Water into Wine

These people know me only in the thin hymns of the mind, in the arid sermons and prayers. I am the live God, nailed fast to the old tree of a nation by its unreal tears. I thirst, I thirst for the spring water. Draw it up for me from your heart’s well and I will...