The poet pursues his beautiful the… The preacher his golden beatitude; And I run after a vanishing dream… The glittering, will-o’-the-wispis… Of the properly scholarly attitude…

In your Curled petals what ghosts Of blue headlands and seas, What perfumed immortal breath sigh… Of Greece.

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

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

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…

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

More dim than wining moon Thy face, mort faint Than is the falling wind Thy voice, yet do Thine eyes most strangely glow,

Fate Defied As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad

If illness’ end be health regained… Will pay you, Asculapeus, when I…

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

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

Great Kings were dust and all the… Did my harp’s taut and burnished s… The fragrance of dead ladies’ love… Blew never down but for my lute.

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!

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

If it Were lighter touch Than petal of flower resting On grass, oh still too heavy it we… Too heavy!