I have seen these ways of God: I know of no reason For fire and change and torture and the old returnings.

Here from this mountain shore, headland beyond stormy headland plunging like dolphins through the blue sea-smoke Into pale sea - look west at the hill of water…

Poetry is bound to concern itself chiefly with permanent aspects of life.

If you should look for this place after a handful of lifetimes: Perhaps of my planted forest a few May stand yet, dark-leaved Australians or the coast cypress,…

We are at war between consciousness and nature, between the desire for permanence and the fact of flux. It is ourself against ourselves.

I cannot but think that he who finds a certain proportion of pain and evil inseparably woven up in the life of the very worms, will bear his own share with mor…

The appeal to heaven breaks off. The petals begin to fall, in self-forgiveness. It is a flower. On this mountainside it is dying.