Laura Riding Poems

Across a continent imaginary
Because it cannot be discovered now
Upon this fully apprehended planet—
No more applicants considered,
...

Here where the end of bone is no end of song
And the earth is bedecked with immortality
In what was poetry
And now is pride beside
...

This is not exactly what I mean
Any more than the sun is the sun.
But how to mean more closely
If the sun shines but approximately?
...

I do not doubt you.
I know you love me.
It is a fact of your indoor face,
A true fancy of your muscularity.
...

With the face goes a mirror
As with the mind a world.
Likeness tells the doubting eye
That strangeness is not strange.
...

The little quids, the million quids,
The everywhere, everything, always quids,
The atoms of the Monoton—
Each turned three essences where it stood
...

The secrets of the mind convene splendidly,
Though the mind is meek.
To be aware inwardly
of brain and beauty
...