Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

So may you sleep alway, My baby, my dear son: Amen, Amen, Amen. My baby, my dear son.

The cold With steely clutch Grips all the land. .alack The little people in the hills Will die!

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…

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?

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

Is it as plainly in our living sho… By slant and twist, which way the…

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.

These be three silent things: The falling snow . . . the hour Before the dawn . . . the mouth of… Just dead.

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

‘There’s be no roof to shelter you… You’ll have no where to lay your h… And who will get your food for you… Star-dust pays for no man’s bread. So, Jacky, come give me your fidd…

The morning is new and the skies a… The day cometh in with the sun and… Hasten, belov’ed! For see, while you were yet sleepi… The cool and virgin feet of dawn w…

I have minded me Of the noon-day brightness, And the cricket’s drowsy Singing in the sunshine. . I have minded me

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

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