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

Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…

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

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

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…

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

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!

And the centurion who stood by sai… Truly this was a son of God. Not long ago but everywhere I go There is a hill and a black windy… Portent of hill, sky, day’s eclips…

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

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

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!

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

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

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