And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
-“Morning Song” by Sylvia Plath
The sea of spuming thought foists up again
The radiant bubble that she was.
– “Le Monocle de Mon Oncle” by Wallace Stevens
“Shall she not find in comforts of the sun,
In pungent fruit and bright, green wings, or else
In any balm or beauty of the earth,
Things to be cherished like the thought of heaven?”
-“Sunday Morning” by Wallace Stevens