Nor stars . . the dark . . and in The dark the grey Ghost glimmer of the olive trees The black straight rows Of Cypresses.

The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.

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!

Have yet forgot, sweet birds, How near the heaven’s lie? Drooping, sick-pinion’d, oh Have yet forgot the sky? The air that once I knew

Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.

(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.

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

To Walter Savage Landor Ah, Walter, where you lived I rue These days come all too late for m… What matter if her eyes were blue Whose rival is Persephone?

Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.

A-sway, On red rose, A golden butterfly. . And on my heart a butterfly Night-wing’d.

I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.

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

Every day, Every day, Tell the hours By their shadows, By their shadows.

How can you lie so still? All day… And never a blade of all the green… To show where restlessly you toss… And fling a desperate arm or draw… Stiffened and aching from their lo…

In the cold I will rise, I will b… In waters of ice; myself Will shiver, and shrive myself, Alone in the dawn, and anoint Forehead and feet and hands;