#AmericanWriters
Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.
Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.
With night’s Dim veil and blue I will cover my eyes, I will bind close my eyes that are So weary.
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,
In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.
Keep thou Thy tearless watch All night but when blue-dawn Breathes on the silver moon, then… Then weep!
THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?
The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.
What words Are left thee then Who hast squandered on thy Forgetfulness eternity’s I Love?
Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.
Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910
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…
The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!
(1) The rose new-opening saith, And the dew of the morning saith, (Fallen leaves and vanished dew) Remember death.
Wouldst thou find my ashes? Look In the pages of my book; And as these thy hand doth turn, Know here is my funeral urn.