The white birch saplings choiring in a praise
of sunlight, spring, late April, the little voices
of nature’s chorus for the clearing that was

Sometimes I think you are absolutely right. Your
  rightness comes to me like the absoluteness
of God. I am vouchsafed the sudden glory

When I consider the children of the middle class
as representations of phenomena to my subject sense
I can hardly see them at all, they fade