Without a name and nothing to be desired, If only imagined but imagined well.

Not to be realized because not to Be seen, not to be loved nor hated because Not to be realized.

My house has changed a little in the sun. The fragrance of the magnolias come close, False flick, false form, but falseness close to kin.

Yet voluble of dumb violence. You look Across the roofs as sigil and as ward And in your centre mark them and are cowed . . .

Transforma-se o amador na cousa amada, Por virtude do muito imaginar; Nao tenho, logo, mais que desejar, Pois em mim tenho a parte desejada.

Here in a little lonely room I am master of earth and sea, And the planets come to me.

I knew I wouldn't ever trade all this whirling about my head for Russia or heaven or anything on earth.