"Clown in the Moon" My tears are like the quiet drift Of petals from some magic rose; And all my grief flows from the rift Of unremembered skies and… - Dylan Thomas

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

I fell in love — that is the only expression I can think of — at once, and am still at the mercy of words, though sometimes now, knowing a little of their behavior very well, I think I can influence them slightly and have even learned to beat them now and then, which they appear to enjoy.

All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the rim of the ice-edged, fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and bring out whatever I can find.

And nightly under the simple stars
As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away
All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables,
the nightjars
Flashing into the dark.