Well: the day is a poem but too much Like one of Jeffers's, crusted with blood and barbaric omens Painful to excess, inhuman as a hawk's cry.

The greatest beauty is organic wholeness, the wholeness of life and things, the divine beauty of the universe.

You making haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.

Corruption never has been compulsory; when the cities lie at the monster's feet there are left the mountains.

The tides are in our veins.

Well: the day is a poem but too much Like one of Jeffers's, crusted with blood and barbaric omens Painful to excess, inhuman as a hawk's cry.

civilization is a transient sickness.