White doves of Cytherea, by your… Across the blue Heaven’s bluest h… And by your certain homing to Lov… Still to be true and ever true -…

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

THE old Old winds that blew When chaos was, what do They tell the clattered trees that… Should weep?

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

Oh me, Was there a time When Paradise knew Eve In this sweet guise, so placid and

Seen on a night in November How frail Above the bulk Of crashing water hangs, Autumn, evanescent, wan,

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

My songs to sell, sweet maid! I pray you buy. Here’s one will win a lady’s tears… Here’s one will make her gay, Here’s one will charm your true lo…

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

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.

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

The shadowy boy of night Crosses the dusking land; He sows his poppy-seeds With steady, gentle hand. The shadowy boy of night

Oh Lady, let the sad tears fall To speak thy pain, Gently as through the silver dusk The silver rain. Oh, let thy bosom breathe its grie…

Lo, how they weave– the imperturba… Those threads that are my destiny: Steadily at the eternal task they’… Industrious . . . indifferent . .… Weave, Fates! And what your spins…

Listen . . . With faint dry sound, Like steps of passing ghosts, The leaves, frost-crisp’d, break f… And fall.