"Why do
You thus devise
Evil against her?" "For that
She is beautiful, delicate;
Therefore."
YOUTH
But me
They cannot touch,
Old Age and death . . . the strange
And ignominious end of old
Dead folk!
THE GUARDED WOUND
If it
Were lighter touch
Than petal of flower resting
On grass, oh still too heavy it were,
Too heavy!
WINTER
The cold
With steely clutch
Grips all the land . . . alack,
The little people in the hills
Will die!
NIGHT WINDS
The old
Old winds that blew
When chaos was, what do
They tell the clattered trees that I
Should weep?