From An Eastern Grass Field Poem by Oliver .........

The grass, its green flame; the flame's soaring!
Uplands nourish the family of culms that clamber
On damp river-sides. The grass unwinds its striving

Desires along the trails by rocks and thickets here;
Tufts of its freedom, wet as lips in rain,
Tangled in the losses of earth, arranged in the milder

Sun in wisps like hands all held together in unity.!
The grass, its comforting touch in April in Indian
Clime; the grass's marriage to soil in sunny

Estates! Divine and sodden grass by a woman
In her garden! Who hurled it down to earth as a gift?
O honeymoon between frost, and grass; it won't sustain

Much long! But grass is singing its happiness in a croft;
It's blessed and baptized on an April day; I wish
It all progress; let the grass make its fabric on earth!