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

Well and If day on day Follows and weary year On year . . . and ever days and ye… Well?

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

He comes from Mass early in the m… The sky’s the very blue Madonna w… The air’s alive with gold! Mark y… The birds sing and the dusted shim… On leaf and fruit?..Per Bacco, wh…

Never the nightingale, Oh, my dear, Never again the lark Thou wilt hear; Though dusk and the morning still

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

Dost thou Not feel them slip, How cold! how cold! the moon’s Thin wavering finger-tips, along Thy throat?

‘Let me be young,’ the Latmian sh… ‘And let me have on night-time hil… Whom she of Cynthus saw, Heaven’s… And gave his youth and dreams her… What news comrade upon the mountai…

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.

Lo, All the Way, Look you, I said, the clouds will… Grow clear, the road Be easier for my travelling the fi… So sodden and dead,

Not spring’s Thou art, but hers, Most cool, most virginal, Winter’s, with thy faint breath, t… Rose-tinged.

Heard ye the maidens Went through the meadows, Early, O, early, While yet the dew was Wet on the grass?

‘WHY do You thus devise Evil against her?’ ‘For that She is beautiful, delicate; Therefore.’

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.

The immemorial grief of all years Burdes my heart sorely, and the ye… Of slow eternal crying stain my ch… Forever and forever my soul speaks Saying: I am thy self: Look on me…