To an Unknown Poet
When I am lost in the deep body of the mist on the hill, The world seems built with me as its pillar! Am I the god upon the face of the deep, deepless deepness in the Beginning?
This poem is in the public domain.
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I Hear You Call, Pine Tree
I hear you call, pine tree, I hear you upon the hill, by the silent pond
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[The faint shadow of the morning moon?]
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The mist of blossoming flowers?
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At night the Universe grows lean, sober-
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The curtains rattle ghostlily along, bloodily biting
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1920