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.

The long night through and still a… Estranged from eyes that very wear… Makes blind to dawn.

As it Were tissue of silver I’ll wear, O Fate, thy grey, And go mistily radiant, clad Like the moon.

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

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

The poet pursues his beautiful the… The preacher his golden beatitude; And I run after a vanishing dream… The glittering, will-o’-the-wispis… Of the properly scholarly attitude…

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

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

Grey gaolers are my griefs That will not let me free; The bitterness of tears Is warder unto me. I may not leap or run;

Look up . . . From bleakening hills Blows down the light, first breath Of wintry wind . . . look up, and… The snow!

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

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

‘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…