If the king had given me for my own Paris, his citadel, And I for that must leave alone Her whom I love so well, I'd say then to the Crown Take back … - Richard Wilbur

As a queen sits down, knowing that a chair will be there,
Or a general raises his hand and is given the field-glasses,
Step off assuredly into the blank of your mind.
Something will come to you.

A Milkweed

Anonymous as cherubs
Over the crib of God,
White seeds are floating
Out of my burstpod.
What power had I
Before I learned to yield?
Shatter me, great wind:
I shall possess the field.

A Stone

As casual as cow-dung
Under the crib of God,
I lie where chance would have me,
Up to my ears in sod.
Why should I move? To move
Befits a light desire.
The sill of Heaven would founder,
Did such as I aspire.

Last night I saw the grass Slowly divide (it was the same scene But now it glowed a fierce and mortal green) And saw the dog emerging.