"And, up against me, the inanimate things
that I created earlier
come to die again within the breast
of my intelligence
eager for my shelter and my fruits,
begging again for riches from a beggar."
(“When the Anguish”)
"So, within your shaping arms
I pour myself, small and immense,
serene given, restless given,
unending developing motion."
(“The Presence of Orpheus”)
"As for my crying over you, I bleached it away slowly
day by day as full light does
and in silence I sent it back to my eyes,
which, if I look at you, are alive with stars."
(“And it would be even easier”)
