At mid-day, suddenly, in summerWithin the air flake drifting upon flake. To build such darkness out of air,Such snow, and its breathed nothingness. At noon the sun itself an emptiness.Ash everywhere. In the ash tufts of hair, Upon the skin a film, a bitternessAnd smell that nothing rubs away. Not snow, and its pure nothingness,But […]
As I lay asleep in Italy
There came a voice from over the Sea
And with great power it forth led me
To walk in the visions of Poesy.
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Der a ön o haet ida gairden here,
/ Whaar da sun-flooer proodly staands,
/ An dark-red roses trowe da…
I’d cast my coat again, rowe up my sark,
An’, or they’d time to lench a second ark,
Tak’ back my word an’ sen’ anither spate,
Droon oot the hale hypothec, dicht the sklat