There in the burnt and churning turf I see the remnants fire; I see their threatening of the earth Cool blithely and expire. The stipples...

The fields rise with water, And at last they are drained of death. The close-green packed plants, The light’s breath Of greenness on the...

Here was the door where the day walked in, The floor feet made thin. Why was the window cold with the full scene it shone? When, at long...