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

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

Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,

When I was girl by Nilus stream I watched the deserts stars arise; My lover, he who dreamed the Sphi… Learned all his dreaming from eyes… I bore in Greece a burning name,

If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…

Joy! Joy! Joy! The hills are glad, The valleys re-echo with merriment… In my heart is the sound of laught… And my feet dance to the time of i…

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

Than spring’s new scents The winter’s earliest wind Blows from the hills the first fai… Of Snow. Why have I

Ere the horne’d owl hoot Once and twice and thrice there sh… Go among the blind brown worms News of thy great burial; When the pomp is passed away,

Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…

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

He comes from Mass early in the m… The sky’s the very blue Madonna w… The air’s alive with gold! Mark y… The birds sing and the dusted shim… On leaf and fruit?..Per Bacco, wh…

Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…

More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,

But me They cannot touch, Old age and death. .the strange And ignominious end of old Dead folk!