“I saw our golden years on a black gale,our time of love spilt in the furious dust."O we are winter-caught, and we must fail,"said the dark dream, "and time is overcast."-And woke into the night; but you were there,and small as seed in the wild dark we lay.Small as seed under the gulfs of airis set the stubborn heart that waits for day.I saw our love the root that holds the vinein the enduring earth, that can reply,"Nothing shall die unless for me it die.Murder and hate and love alike are mine";and therefore fear no winter and no stormwhile in the knot of earth that root lies warm.”

“The eastward spurs tip backward from the sun.Nights runs an obscure tide round cape and bayand beats with boats of cloud up from the seaagainst this sheer and limelit granite head.Swallow the spine of range; be dark. O lonely air.Make a cold quilt across the bone and skullthat screamed falling in flesh from the lipped cliffand then were silent, waiting for the flies.Here is the symbol, and climbing darka time for synthesis. Night buoys no warningover the rocks that wait our keels; no bellssound for the mariners. Now must we measureour days by nights, our tropics by their poles,love by its end and all our speech by silence.See in the gulfs, how small the light of home.Did we not know their blood channelled our rivers,and the black dust our crops ate was their dust?O all men are one man at last. We should have knownthe night that tidied up the cliffs and hid themhad the same question on its tongue for us.And there they lie that were ourselves writ strange.Never from earth again the coolamonor thin black children dancing like the shadowsof saplings in the wind. Night lips the harshscarp of the tableland and cools its granite.Night floods us suddenly as historythat has sunk many islands in its good time.”

“Two Songs For The World's End I Bombs ripen on the leafless tree under which the children play. And there my darling all alone dances in the spying day. I gave her nerves to feel her pain, I put her mortal beauty on. I taught her love that hate might find, its black work the easier done. I sent her out alone to play; and I must watch, and I must hear, how underneath the leafless tree, the children dance and sing with Fear. II Lighted by the rage of time where the blind and dying weep, in my shadow take your sleep, though wakeful I. Sleep unhearing while I pray - Should the red tent of the sky fall to fold your time away, wake to weep before you die. Die believing all is true that love your maker said to you Still believe that had you lived you would have found love, world, sight, sound, sorrow, beauty - all true. Grieve for death your moment - grieve. The world, the lover you must take, is the murderer you will meet. But if you die before you wake never think death sweet.”

“Tunnelling through the night, the trains passin a splendour of power, with a sound like thundershaking the orchards, wakingthe young from a dream, scattering like glassthe old mens' sleep, layinga black trail over the still bloom of the orchards;the trains go north with guns.Strange primitive piece of flesh, the heart laid quiethearing their cry pierce through its thin-walled caverecalls the forgotten tiger,and leaps awake in its old panic riot;and how shall mind be sober,since blood's red thread still binds us fast in history?Tiger, you walk through all our past and future,troubling the children's sleep'; layinga reeking trail across our dreams of orchards.Racing on iron errands, the trains go by,and over the white acres of our orchardshurl their wild summoning cry, their animal cry….the trains go north with guns.”

“Naked Girl and MirrorThis is not I. I had no body once-only what served my need to laugh and runand stare at stars and tentatively danceon the fringe of foam and wave and sand and sun.Eyes loved, hands reached for me, but I was goneon my own currents, quicksilver, thistledown.Can I be trapped at last in that soft face?I stare at you in fear, dark brimming eyes.Why do you watch me with that immoderate plea-'Look under these curled lashes, recognizethat you were always here; know me-be me.'Smooth once-hermaphrodite shoulders, too tenderlyyour long slope runs, above those sudden shycurves furred with light that spring below your space.No, I have been betrayed. If I had knownthat this girl waited between a year and a year,I'd not have chosen her bough to dance upon.Betrayed, by that little darkness here, and herethis swelling softness and that frightened starefrom eyes I will not answer; shut out herefrom my own self, by its new body's grace-for I am betrayed by someone lovely. Yes,I see you are lovely, hateful naked girl.Your lips in the mirror tremble as I refuseto know or claim you. Let me go-let me be gone.You are half of some other who may never come.Why should I tend you? You are not my own;you seek that other-he will be your home.Yet I pity your eyes in the mirror, misted with tears;I lean to your kiss. I must serve you; I will obey.Some day we may love. I may miss your going, some day,though I shall always resent your dumb and fruitful years.Your lovers shall learn better, and bitterly too,if their arrogance dares to think I am part of you.”

“Now my five sensesgather into a meaningall acts, all presences;and as a lily gathersthe elements together,in me this dark and shining,that stillness and that moving,these shapes that spring from nothing,become a rhythm that dances,a pure design.While I'm in my five sensesthey send me spinningall sounds and silences,all shape and colouras thread for that weaver,whose web within me growingfollows beyond my knowingsome pattern sprung from nothing-a rhythm that dancesand is not mine.”

“The love of money is the root of all evil, therefore selfishness must be the seed.”