I am not one of those who sip, Like a quotidian bock, Cheap idylls from a languid lip Prepared to yawn or mock. I wait the indubitable word,

A petal drifted loose From a great magnolia bloom, Your face hung in the gloom, Floating, white and close. We seemed alone: but another

We judge by appearance merely: If I can’t think strangely, I can… So I grew the hair so long on my… That my mother wouldn’t know me, Till a woman in a night-club said,

Failing sometimes to understand Why there are folk whose flesh sho… Like carrion puffed with noisome s… Fly-blown to the eye that looks on… Fly-blown to the touch of a hand;

All fly—yet who is misanthrope?— The actual men and things that pas… Jostling, to wither as the grass So soon: and (be it heaven’s hope, Or poetry’s kaleidoscope,

Thought is an unseen net wherein o… Is taken and vainly struggles to b… Words, that should loose our spiri… New fetters on our hoped-for liber… And action bears us onward like a…

I would immortalize these nymphs:… Their sunlit colouring, so airy li… It floats like drowsing down. Lov… My doubts, born of oblivious darkn… A subtle tracery of branches grown

I am getting on well with this ane… When suddenly I recall The many times I have told it of… And all the worked-up phrases, and… Of voice, well timed in the crisis…

Once more the windless days are he… Quiet of autumn, when the year Halts and looks backward and draws… Before it plunges into death. Silver of mist and gossamers,

In the middle of countries, far fr… Are the little places one passes b… And never stops at; where the skie… Uninterrupted, and the level plain… Stretch green and yellow and green…

HOW clear under the trees, How softly the music flows, Rippling from one still pool to an… Into the lake of silence.