Silver Jars
I dreamed I caught your loveliness
In little silver jars:
And when you died I opened them,
And there was only soot within.
Evening Rain
Rain fell so softly, in the evening,
I almost thought it was the trees that were talking.
Toy-Boxes
Cities are the toy-boxes
Time plays with:
And there are often many doll-houses
Of which the dolls are lost.
Moods
A poet’s moods:
Fluttering butterflies in the rain.
Grass
Grass moves in the wind,
My soul is backwards blown.
A Landscape
Land, green-brown;
Sea, brown-grey;
Island, dull peacock blue;
Sky, stone-grey.
Terror
Because of the long pallid petals of white chrysanthemums
Waving to and fro,
I dare not go.
Mid-Summer Dusk
Swallows twittering at twilight:
Waves of heat
Churned to flames by the sun.
Evening Bell From a Distant Temple
A bell in the fog
Creeps out echoing faintly
The pale broad flashes
Of vibrating twilight,
Faded gold.
A Thought
A piece of paper ready to toss in the fire,
Blackened, scrawled with fragments of an incomplete song:
My soul.
The Stars
There is a goddess who walks shrouded by day:
At night she throws her blue veil over the earth.
Men only see her naked glory through the little holes in the veil.