“I make no apology for writing in nature's age-old and unaging language, of whose images we build our paradises, Broceliande and Brindavan, the Forest of Arden, Xanadu, Shelley's Skies, or even Wordsworth's Grasemere, which can be found on no map.” WritingAgeFoundLanguageSkyForestsParadiseMapsApologyShelleyWordsworth Book:Selected poems Source: Selected poems
“O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a love in darkness wrought obedient to the unseen sun, longer than memory, a thought deeper than the graves of time. The turning spindles of the cells weave a slow forest over space, the dance of love, creation, out of time moves not a leaf, and out of summer, not a shade.” WorldDreamMovingMemoriesSpaceMillionsDarknessSunTreeCreationSummerGreenDeeperHarmGravesForestsCellsShadeUnseenLeafsPalmsAdorationObedient Book:Selected poems Source: Selected poems
