PHANTOMS AT TEA
Into your tea, one petal,Into my pages, two;Above us a lattice of cherriesEmbroidered on the blue. . . .
Around us the runnel of water,Above us the shiver of shade,As petal, by petal, by petalThe cherry phantoms fade.
DYING AWAY SONG
Mood in a strange country of four seasons.
I left you fields, forlorn—I found you dying;Saw grasses torn,Heard crying.
Leaves in frailty lifted,Now are fallen;Even your dust is siftedWith old pollen.
Autumn, autumn, followsWhere I go:After me, swallows,Then snow.
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