Then I was sealed, and like the wintering tree …
Léonie Adams
These lovers’ inklings which our loves enmesh, …
A fall over rock, …
Now the rich cherry, whose sleek wood, …
Gold shed upon suckling gold, …
I was enriched, not casting after marvels, …
Light at each point was beating then to flight, …
Send forth the high falcon flying after the mind …
When tunes jigged nimbler than the blood …
This is the time lean woods shall spend …
This that is washed with weed and pebblestone …
Now I have tempered haste, …
Ash and strewments, the first moth-wings, pale …