christmas poems

to what shall a woman liken her beloved
the earth keeps some vibration going
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
high walls and huge
the dawn was apple-green
a mist was driving down
the air is like a butterfly
up from the south at break of day
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
your body's motion is like music