“The night sky is only a sort of carbon paper,Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of starsLetting in the light, peephole after peephole--- A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.--from "Insomniac", written April 1961”

“Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it--from "Elm", written 19 April 1962”

“No day is safe from news of you.--from "The Rival", written July 1961”

“I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.--from "Elm", written 19 April 1962”

“The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,White as a knuckle and terribly upset.It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quietWith the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.--from "The Moon and the Yew Tree", written 22 October 1961”

“Beached under the spumy blooms, we lieSea-sick and fever-dry.--from "Withsun", written 14 February 1961”

“I have suffered the atrocity of sunsets.--from "Elm", written 19 April 1962”