"Only a rose which now will never climb
The stone of our house, expendable, a mere
Line of defence against him, a volunteer."

"Why should we care
If a rose, a hedge, a crocus are uprooted
Like corpses, remote, crushed, mutilated?"

"Recalling days
Of burned countryside."

"Living , learn, must learn from you, dead."

"Our times have robbed your cradle."

"These Irish, give them no coins at all; their bones
need toil, their characters no less."

"This Tuesday I saw bones
out of my carriage window, your servant Jones."

"What is your body
now if not a famine road?"

"A neighbourhood
At dusk."

"A woman leans down to catch a child
who has run into her arms
this moment."

"Stars rise.
Moths flutter.
Apples sweeten in the dark."