Sweet is the swamp with secrets
By Emily Dickinson

Sweet is the Swamp with secrets,
Until we meet a snake;
‘Tis then we sigh for houses,
And our departure take

At that enthralling gallop
That only childhood knows.
A snake is summer’s treason,
And guile is where it goes.

To make a prairie (1755)
By Emily Dickinson

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee.
And revery.
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.

Sonnet 5
from The Sonnets to Orpheus I
By Rainer Maria Rilke

Erect no monument. Just let the roses
Blossom every year as his reward.
For that is Orpheus. His metamorphoses
To this and that. We shouldn't strive too hard

To find another name. Once and for all
It's Orpheus if there's song. He comes and goes.
Isn't it enough that sometimes he'll
Survive a few days longer than the rose?

And though he also worries at his passing,
He has to fade, for you to understand!
For when his word expands beyond existence,

He is already, where you can't go with him.
The lyre's bars do not constrain his hands.
And he obeys the best, when he's trespassing.