Prose is a poor thing, a poor inadequate thing, compared with poetry which says so much more in shorter time.

There's no beginning to the farmer's year, / Only recurrent patterns on a scroll / Unwinding...

The Saluki is a marvel of elegance.

Days I enjoy are days when nothing happens, When I have no engagements written on my block, When no one comes to disturb my inward peace, When no one comes to take me away from myself And turn me into a patchwork, a jig-saw puzzle, A broken mirror that once gave a whole reflection, Being so contrived that it takes too long a time To get myself back to myself when they have gone.

Every garden-maker should be an artist along his own lines. That is the only possible way to create a garden, irrespective of size or wealth.

But you, oh gardener, poet that you be / Though unaware, now use your seeds like words / And make them lilt with color nicely flung.

There are no signposts in the sea.