NEW MOON

New moon in the pale light

Glass-blue that flows

Past the narrow alders

To where the day goes

Is a crystal bell-note

Silver as a thin gong, :
Plangent as the cymbal’s tone ;
In an Oriental song.

SUMMER

To-day

The hills are blue. Away

(Ten thousand miles away, I think)

White clouds hang trembling on the very brink
Of the Eastern sky. Nearer at hand

Sharp green trees like pillars stand

Holding the sky, as if in fear

That earth should come too near

And in July’s hot weather

Melt and flow together.

MAY

Dogwood,

In the swirl of May,

You are a tongue of arrogant foam
Flung up where the Maples and Alders
Shatter on the Firs.