“Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violetsdandelionsAnd the big bullying daisies through the field wonderfulwith eyes a little sorryAnother comes also picking flowers”

“i have found what you are like the rain (Who feathers frightened fields with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields easily the pale club of the wind and swirled justly souls of flower strike the air in utterable coolness deeds of gren thrilling light with thinned newfragile yellows lurch and.press --in the woods which stutter and sing And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms;but i should rather than anything have(almost when hugeness will shut quietly)almost, your kiss”

“wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a far better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers.”

“my mind isa big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and chipping with sharp fatal toolsin an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of chrome and ex-ecute strides of cobaltnevertheless ifeel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am becoming something a little different, in factmyselfhereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet bellowings”

“Spring is like a perhaps handSpring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window,into which people look(while people starearranging and changing placing carefully there a strange thing and a known thing here)andchanging everything carefullyspring is like a perhaps Hand in a window (carefully to and fro moving New and Old things,while people stare carefully moving a perhaps fraction of flower here placing an inch of air there)andwithout breaking anything.”

“Be of love (a little)More carefulThan everything”

“it may not always be so; and i saythat if your lips, which i have loved, should touchanother's, and your dear strong fingers clutchhis heart, as mine in time not far away;if on another's face your sweet hair layin such a silence as i know,or suchgreat writhing words as, uttering overmuch,stand helplessly before the spirit at bay; if this should be, i say if this should be-you of my heart, send me a little word;that i may go unto him, and take his hands,saying, Accept all happiness from me.Then shall i turn my face,and hear one birdsing terribly afar in the lost lands.”