For This Beauty, Beauty Without Strength, Chokes

The Fallen Hazel-nuts, Stripped Late Of Their Green Sheaths, The Grapes, Red-purple, Their Berries Dripping With Wine, Pomegranates Already Broken, And Shrunken Fig, And Quinces Untouched, I Bring Thee As Offering.

Not God With Wine, Nor Death, Nor Hate For A Cry, But God With A Song

I Myself Have Seen The Floating Ships And Nothing Will Ever Be The Same The Shouts, The Harrowing Voices Within The House. I Stand Apart With An Army: My Mind Is Graven With Ships.

We Don't Have To Know,only To Be:let Go The Jumble Of Worn Words,reason And Vanity.

I Testify To Rainbow Feathers, To The Span Of Heaven And Walls Of Colour, The Colonnades Of Jasper.