This is the light of the mind, cold and planetary The trees of the mind are black. The light is blue. The grasses unload their griefs on my feet as if I were God

We rest.--A dream has power to poison sleep; We rise.--One wandering thought pollutes the day; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;

Ah, when shall day dawn on the night of the grave, Or summer succeed to the winter of death?

the earth is glad to be free but the sky resents being its mask

filling the world like a moon that has lost its mind

I think I am going up, I think I may rise—— The beads of hot metal fly, and I love, I