The sweetest Heresy received That Man and Woman know - Each Other's Convert - Though the Faith accommodate but Two - The Churches are so frequent - The Ritual - so small - The Grace so unavoidable - To fail - is Infidel.
Answer July - Where is the Bee - Where is the Blush - Where is the Hay? Ah, said July - Where is the Seed - Where is the Bud - Where is the May - Answer Thee - Me -
Nay - said the May - Show me the Snow - Show me the Bells - Show me the Jay!
Quibbled the Jay - Where be the Maize - Where be the Haze - Where be the Bur? Here - said the Year.
Smiling back from Coronation May be Luxury - On the Heads that started with us - Being's Peasantry - Recognizing in Procession Ones We former knew - When Ourselves were also dusty - Centuries ago -
Had the Triumph no Conviction Of how many be - Stimulated - by the Contrast - Unto Misery.
Eu amo tudo o que foi, Tudo o que jà não è, A dor que jà me não dòi, A antiga e errònea fè, O ontem que dor deixou, O que deixou alegria Sò porque foi, e voou E hoje è jà outro dia.
On aura vu aussi ces femmes - en rêve ou non, mais toujours dans les enclos vagues de la nuit - sous leurs crinières de jument, fougueuses, avec de long yeux tendres à lustre de cuir, non pas la viande offerte à ces nouveaux étals de toile, bon marché, quotidienne, à bâfrer seul entre deux draps, mais l'animale soeur qui se dérobe et se devine, encore moins distincte de ses boucles, de ses dentelles que l'onduleuse vague ne l'est de l'écume, le fauve souple dont tous sont chasseurs et que le mieux armé n'atteint jamais parce qu'elle est cachée plus profond dans son propre corps qu'il ne peut pénétrer - rugirait-il d'un prétendu triomphe -, parce qu'elle est seulement comme le seuil de son propre jardin, ou une faille dans la nuit incapable d'en ébranler le mur, ou un piège à saveur de fruit ruisselant, un fruit, mais qui aurait un regard - et des larmes.
Each thing I do I rush through so I can do something else. In such a way do the days pass - a blend of stock car racing and the never ending building of a gothic cathedral. Through the windows of my speeding car, I see all that I love falling away: books unread, jokes untold, landscapes unvisited. And why? What treasure do I expect in my future? Rather it is the confusion of childhood loping behind me, the chaos in the mind, the failure chipping away at each success. Glancing over my shoulder I see its shape and so move forward, as someone in the woods at night might hear the sound of approaching feet and stop to listen, then, instead of silence he hears some creature trying to be silent. What else can he do but run? Rushing blindly down the path, stumbling, struck in the face by sticks; the other ever closer, yet not really hurrying or out of breath, teasing its kill.
Little Bread - a crust - a crumb - A little trust - a demijohn - Can keep the soul alive - Not portly, mind! But breathing - warm - Conscious - as old Napoleon, The night before the crown! A modest lot - A fame petite - A brief Campaign of sting and sweet Is plenty! Is enough! A Sailor's business is the shore! A Soldier's - balls! Who asketh more, Must seek the neighboring life!
You love me - you are sure - I shall not fear mistake - I shall not cheated wake - Some grinning morn - To find the Sunrise left - And Orchards - unbereft - And Dollie - gone! I need not start - you're sure - That night will never be - When frightened - home to Thee I run - To find the windows dark - And no more Dollie - mark - Quite none?
Be sure you're sure - you know - I'll bear it better now - If you'll just tell me so - Than when - a little dull Balm grown - Over this pain of mine - You sting - again!
Except to Heaven, she is nought. Except for Angels - lone. Except to some wide-wandering Bee A flower superfluous blown. Except for winds - provincial. Except by Butterflies Unnoticed as a single dew That on the Acre lies.
The smallest Housewife in the grass, Yet take her from the Lawn And somebody has lost the face That made Existence - Home.