Reap, reap the grain and gather The sweet grapes from the vine; Our Lord’s mother is weeping, She hath nor bread nor wine; She is weeping. The Queen of Hea…

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

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

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

The sun is warm today, O Romulus, and on Thine older Palentine the birds Still sing.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

Thou hast Drawn laughter from A well of secret tears And thence so elvish it rings, –mo… And sweet.

Avis, the fair, at dawn Rose lightly from her bed, Herself arrayed, Avis, the fait, the maid, In vestiment of lawn;

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

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