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

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

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

Behold her, Running through the waves Eager to reach the land; The water laps her, Sun and wind are on her,

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?

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…

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

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

Thou beautiful and ivory gates That shut my tears away from me - Even, at last, such refuge yield That great, safe doors of Ebony.

Not thou, White rose, but thy Ensanguined sister is The dear companion of my heart’s Shed blood.

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

‘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…

A flickering light near spent Her pale hand bore. Have you seen Angelique? Will she know the place Dead feet must find,

Pain ebbs, And like cool balm, An opiate weariness Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed Pale wrists.

Burdock, Blue aconite, And thistle and thorn. .of these Singing I wreathe my pretty wreat… O’death.