Song ("As sunlight's fever...")

Somehow, inside the cocktail car, the drinks

Are downed, and the talk revolves on nothing.

The valley colors to a Chinese print

At six o'clock or soon, and the weather seems

Half snow, half evening of remembered Spring:

Arrival threatens; then, the tragic fuss

Of a leather brief-case on the night express

Means poems to the poet, and to someone, business.

SONG |

As sunlight's fever cut across

The sea cove and the rock,

I thought another landscape was

Whispering at my back; .

Turning to the slanting wind

I heard the gulls bark.

But this is another country

And here I have no enemy;

Nothing to do but tarry

By the salt sea or the fresh quarry

Or lie where the slimmest rock divides

Myself from the brimming sea.

Fisherman, though I must remain

Merely a tourist in this town,

Consider me for what I am,

A stranger in a lean time.

Your landscape feeds our loneliness:

The sea belongs to both of us.