Of naked light and the sun’s noonday flame.

Hushed lay the earth and the wide, careless sky.

Then one sharp sound, that might have been a cry

Of utmost pleasure or of utmost pain,

Broke sobbing forth, and all was still again.


THE BIRTH OF GOD

NIGHT is a void about me; I lie alone;

And water drips, like an idiot clicking his tongue,

Senselessly, ceaselessly, endlessly drips