I make my shroud, but no one knows… So shimmering fine it is and fair, With stitches set in even rows, I make my shroud, but no one knows… In door-way where the lilac blows,

Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.

Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?

Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.

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…

In a cave born (Mary said) In a cave is My Son buried

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

Oh Lady, let the sad tears fall To speak thy pain, Gently as through the silver dusk The silver rain. Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grie…

‘Boy, lying Where the long grass Edges the pool’s brim, What do you watch There in the water? The blue

Hear thou my lamentation, Eros, Aphrodite’s son! My heart is broken and my days are… Where the woods are dark and the s… Eros!

Art thou Not kin to him Who loved Mark’s wife and both Died for it? O, thou harper in Green woods?

Sun and wind and beat of sea, Great lands stretching endlessly’€… Where be bonds to bind the free? All the world was made for me!

A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,

O mia Luna! Porta mi fortuna! (You must say it nine times, curts… In rose-pale, fading blue of twili… See, the new moon’s thin crescent… Nine times I’ll curtsey murmuring…

Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still