WITH shadowy pen I write,
Till time be done,
Good news of some strange light,
Some far off sun.
[THE REALMS OF GOLD]
(Written after hearing a line of Keats repeated by a passing stranger under the palms of Southern California.)
UNDER the palms of San Diego
Where gold-skinned Mexicans loll at ease,
And the red half-moons of their black-pipped melons