My New American Library Stevens is still on my desk, and I open it to the post-war book Transport to Summer. From "Dutch Graves in Bucks County":
There are circles of weapons in the sun.
The air attends the brightened guns,
As if sounds were forming
Out of themselves, a saying,
An expressive on-dit, a profession.
And you, my sembables, are doubly killed
To be buried in desert and deserted earth.