Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.

As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.

Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.

All day, all day I brush My golden strands of hair; All day I wait and wait.. Ah, who is there? Who calls? Who calls? The gold

Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!

If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!

With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.

The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.

The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!

Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!

For Aubrey Beardsley’s picture Pierrot is dying: Tiptoe in, Finger touched to lip, Harlequin,

My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears… Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true lo…

A laggard in the rear of time’s sw… And one who loiters on an aimless… Through lands he knows not; lured… In secret paths where silence hold… And rust ascending wings. Roads m…

What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?

Guardian Of The Treasure Of Sol… And Keeper Of the Prophet’s Armo… My tent A vapour that The wind dispels and but