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

Was it love breathed on us as on t… Dawn breathes for a short space an… Or loved we never at all who but m… With too dim vision the guarded my… Were we unfaithful or were we unwi…

No guile? Nay, but so strangely He moves among us. . Not this Man but Barabbas! Release to us Barabbas!

Still as On windless nights The moon-cast shadows are, So still will be my heart when I Am dead.

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

Little my lacking fortunes show For this to eat and that to wear; Yet laughing, Soul, and gaily go! An obol pays the Stygian fare. London, 1910

The clustered Gods, the marching… The mighty-limbed, deep-bosomed T… The shimmering grey-gold London f… I wish that Phidias could see!

Too far afield thy search. Nay, t… At thine own elbow potent Memory… Thy double, and eternity is cupped In the pale hollow of those ghostl…

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

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

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

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…

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

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…

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